In Which Vader Discovers He is a Father
by glompcat
Summary: A collection of (mostly self-contained) AUs where Vader learns about his kids earlier than he did in the canon timeline. Exploring both that moment of initial discovery, and the way the story unfolds after Vader finds Leia and/or Luke. Things get pretty dark here. If you're looking for wholesome warm family togetherness or happy endings, this is not the fic you're looking for.
1. Darien Whit

I really really needed to practice writing Vader. In the much larger WIP I am writing, I often find myself struggling when trying to get his voice right, so I started this as a way to explore his headspace at various points in the timeline.

Some of the dialogue at the start of this chapter comes from _Darth Vader (2017-) #10_ and was written by Charles Soule

* * *

 **Chapter One: In which Vader does not destroy the list of Force-sensitive children, and _Darth Vader (2017-) #10_ has a different end.**

 **0 AFE**

* * *

"Master I have a report. Jocasta Nu tried to escape our custody. She was… careless. She perished in the attempt."

"I see. Regrettable. Return to me my apprentice. I would hear the story of the witch's end. But first - tell me - did you learn anything from Jocasta before her death?"

Vader hesitated, data disc held in one hand. It would be so easy to lie. To crush it. They were only children.

He did not lie. He did not crush the disc.

"Yes, Master. The Jedi was carrying a list of Force-sensitive children."

"Excellent, Lord Vader, most excellent! Ah, yes. I assume you have already downloaded its contents?"

"Of course my Master."

"Good. Good!"

"What would you have me do?"

"Go, go and find these children. My Inquisitors are not quite ready for this task, you will bring them to me yourself."

"Right away."

Vader stared at the corpse of Jedi Master Jocasta Nu for a few moments longer, before turning to storm onto the nearest clone transport.

There was an irritating awkward moment of confusion where the clones did not seem to know how to react.

Incompetents.

How wrong he had been to ever see them as sympathetic.

Individuals.

He knew better now.

Marching towards a ship he reviewed the information the list provided once more.

The children were arranged by planet of origin, and the list held no further information than name and date of birth.

There was no information to help track them down other than that. Not what species they were, where on the planet they could be found, nothing.

There were no records to help him on Coruscant. He would have to check with the authorities on each individual planet, in hopes of rooting the children out.

The list began on Alderaan, with a four year old child named Darien Whit.

He set the coordinates for Alderaan, the hyperspace lanes connecting Alderaan and Coruscant robust and easy to plot.

He'd be there within the hour.

* * *

A month.

Almost one full month.

One month since the Republic fell.

One month since the Empire rose.

One month since Padmé had died.

One month since… since he held Leia for the first time.

One month since Breha had smiled at him brighter than any star in the sky, cradling their daughter - **_their daughter_ **\- in her arms for the very first time.

Just yesterday Leia had smiled at him!

Actually _smiled_!

It had been a month unlike any other.

Full of tears and diapers and sleepless nights and endless existential dread

So much existential dread.

And nightmares, oh the nightmares. It seemed every time he closed his eyes he saw it anew. The Temple burning. The dead bodies. Everywhere, dead bodies. Dead children. Young and innocent, dead before their lives could start.

The boy, the one who died trying to keep him safe, weighed the heaviest on his heart. So much destruction, so much terror, and at the heart of it all was a man he had once believed to be a friend.

There was only one thing that brought him comfort at night when the dreams woke him from his sleep.

His Leia.

She was his anchor.

His lifeline.

His whole world.

His **_daughter!_**

Which is why when the guards came looking for him on the morning when his world ended, he was asleep in her room, passed out asleep in the chair in the corner.

"Sir, there is a ship entering orbit. There was only one pilot on board, and he is requesting access to land at the Palace's landing pad. Says he is an Imperial Representative?"

"Did he provide you with any sort of personal codes or name? Surely he knows we can not clear him to land without some proof of his story."

"Yes sir. He said his name was Darth Vader? His codes all checked out."

It was over.

It was all over.

He had barely even started to get to know her, and already his greatest joy would be lost to him forever.

Breha was spending her morning locked in meetings with advisers, working out exactly how to best respond to the government that had replaced their beloved Republic. He was afraid those meetings would have to be put on hold. This was infinitely more important.

Four words spoken into his comm, heart sinking like a weight, and his wife was pulled into the terrible panic alongside him. "My love, _he's_ here."

* * *

The Queen and her husband were waiting for him at the platform.

Good, they understood his importance.

His eyes lingered overly long on the Viceroy. On Padmé's closest friend. Thankfully the mask prevented anyone from knowing where it was he looked.

That was not his life now, it had happened to someone else.

In the end Skywalker had been nothing more than a sad deluded fool. He would not let himself get trapped by Skywalker's weaknesses.

The Royal couple watched him with an uneasy air. It suffused the Force around them.

They were _terrified_.

Good.

They should be.

"Lord Vader, it is my honor to welcome you to Alderaan. May I ask what is the purpose of this visit? We have complied in full with the Emperor's orders, and have neared completion of our new constitution and charter in response to the change in the codes." The Queen was good at masking her feelings, but not good enough. He knew she hated him, almost as much as he hated himself.

He did not know what cause he had given for such personal hatred. He was still unknown to all within the Empire. Unrecognized. So how and why had he come to occupy such a place of loathing here already?

The Force surged around his suspicion, urging him to investigate.

The monitors on his chest flashed as his heart began to elevate, what could be more important than his Master's mission, unless… unless _they_ were hiding the Whit child?

That had to be it. As the rulers of this overly privileged and rich planet they of course knew there was a potential Jedi among them. Such a child would not have been ignored.

He would not let them keep him from fulfilling his Master's command.

"I have come for the child." Simple. Direct. There was a small chance that if he made what he needed clear they would not put up a pitiful resistance. "If you had believed you can hide a Force-sensitive child from me, then you were mistaken."

Deepest sorrow, excruciating pain. Who was Whit to these two, for them to react in this way? The emotions were strong, _powerful._ Personal.

Wait.

At the edge of his senses, here in this palace, he could sense…

A child!

Was that Whit?

Could it be so easy, was the child here?

He had anticipated having to locate the child's home, for this to be more challenging. As it was, this was easy enough to be insulting. Did his Master really think so little of his abilities?

The royal couple were speaking, but since he did not care about what they had to say he ignored them, focusing on the presence he had felt instead. Whoever this Whit child was, they were powerful. Very powerful.

He marched into the palace, determined to search every room if he had to to locate the child. It was easy, when one could scatter the guards attempting to block the way with little more than the flick of a hand.

There was something so _familiar_ about this presence. But what, and how? He had never been to this planet before, not even once.

The baby at the end of his search was far too young to be Darien Whit.

The Force surged and sang as he entered the nursery, hastening his every step.

This child was important.

This child was… was…

Padmé had, in her enthusiasm during her pregnancy, made Skywalker watch holos on parenting with her, countless parenting holos. Holos on developmental milestones, various psychological theories in regards to best care, all the way down to instructions on how to change a diaper.

It was thanks to those holos that Vader knew this baby was around four weeks old.

The baby's little hands were still balled in tiny fists, but wide eyes tracked his movement, and when he peered down into the crib the child let out a loud and curious coo.

Four weeks.

The light was blinking again. Warning him as it struggled to bring his heart back under control.

Had this child been born at the same time he was made?

There was noise in the doorway, followed by a sob. The Viceroy. "Please! Please Anakin, please don't hurt her."

Hurt her? Why would he-

Wait.

"What did you call me?"

The Viceroy moved quickly, placing his body between Vader and the baby in the crib. "I won't let you take Leia."

Leia.

That… that was the name he and Padmé were going to give…

Four weeks.

The baby was four weeks old.

The right age to be…

There was a cry from the door - possibly the Queen? - as Vader choked the foolish man who had placed himself between Vader and his daughter, followed by an answering wail from Leia herself.

Comforting her was more important than punishing this man, so he threw him aside, towards the door. He could be the people in the doorway's problem now.

He stepped closer to the crib, peering down at the child within with renewed interest.

She had the faintest suggestion of his nose, and his mother's eyes, and Padmé's cheeks, and yes he would need to do blood scans to make sure but he was confident this child was _his_.

He reached into the crib, a part of him mourning that he'd never get to feel how soft or warm her newborn skin was, that neither of his prosthetic hands allowed him to fully experience the wonder of holding his own child. But she was his. **_His_**.

He no longer cared at all about the child his Master had sent him to retrieve. The Inquisitors could deal with that matter later, it had always been beneath him.

The Queen was blocking the doorway when he turned around, baby in his arms. She was crying and screaming. There was a blaster in her hands, did she really think that would be enough to deter him? What a waste of energy. He threw her back, knocking over a platoon of guards as he did.

Maybe one day people would understand how pointless it was to resist him. He was more powerful than any of them could ever dream of being, even after the injuries he had sustained on Mustafar.

The baby cried all the way to the ship, did not stop even after they had entered hyperspace.

As soon as they landed he was going to need to request servants versed in childcare be brought to him. He did not trust his new limbs to handle the delicate tasks of caring for a child - for all his tinkering he had not quite gotten them working right yet - and moreover such work was beneath him now. He would also have to locate a wetnurse, he vaguely recalled from the holos that newborns were incapable of eating solids until they were several months old.

He didn't even have quarters of his own, just a bacta tank where he recovered between missions. That would have to change. For now he could place a cradle near his tank and watch over her while he floated, but with time she would age and desire privacy. He would have to speak to his Master about -

He would have to speak to his Master about _many_ things.

Such as the Rule of Two, and the place his daughter would inevitably one day occupy within the SIth Order.

He would make it clear to his Master that no harm would come to her until she was at least old enough to begin her training. If his Master disagreed, then he would have to destroy him.

Yes, his Master had bested him in combat recently, proving why he was the Master and Vader the Apprentice, but the child he had discovered on Alderaan was far too precious to be eliminated. He would protect her, and in time they would rule the galaxy together as Father and Daughter.

But first he would have to figure out a way to make her infernal screaming end.

Her crying was giving him a headache, and he did not need internal pain to match the agony his body was already in. Perhaps there was a way to turn the audio receptors in his helmet down. If not, he would devise one.


	2. Shmi Skywalker

You know how I said writing Vader is a struggle and this fic exists for me to practice trying to get him right?

Well welcome to my suffering.

It's been well over a year since I read _Lords of the Sith_ (which takes place just a year after when this chapter is set) and I am afraid I did not get his self-justifications and dedication to fascism at this point in the timeline quite right. I mean in theory it is easy to say "oh yeah Vader is what happens when you take Anakin's worst traits, dial them up to a hundred, and then sprinkle self loathing to taste" but wow is it hard to write. I mean this man's world view is so warped it is more like someone reporting in from a reality adjacent alternative universe than an actual perspective of any sort.

Oh well, I really do hope I managed to create something where he is recognizable in some way.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: In which Vader visits his mother's grave on the tenth anniversary of her death**

 **7 AFE**

* * *

With every parsec traveled closer and closer to this rock he had grown more anxious. Now, as they hung in orbit a tension had coiled deep in his gut, screaming for him to get away.

It was not too late to turn this ship around and return to Coruscant.

Not too late at all.

His Master was mocking him with this task, of this there was no question.

He must have sensed that some of Skywalker's sentiment and weakness still remained. Proving to his Master he would _always_ reject the Light was a continuous struggle. This expedition was either a test to see how committed Vader was to the Dark Side, or the test had already been conducted and failed. Vader did not always triumph when facing his Master's tests, and traveling here could be punishment for an earlier failure.

He worried that this time, given the planet, the date, and the particular glee in his Master's laugh, that he had been sent here to put down slaves.

It was not the task itself he objected to, it was the slave revolts that provoked the slaughter. It was so pointless, these weak beings thinking they deserved a different life than the one they had been given.

If they truly had been destined for more, the Force would have intervened in their favor as it had for him. As it had tried to for his mother.

If they could not accept their life, then he would end it for them.

Every being in the galaxy had a specific role they had been assigned by the Force, and acting in that role was necessary to maintain Order. When beings who did not like their roles rebelled, it put the Order Vader and his Master were bringing to the galaxy at risk. As it was the responsibility of those with the most strength to keep the weaker beings in line and ensure that Order was preserved, Vader did not question the merit of this task.

That was, **_if_ **putting down a slave revolt was the reason his Master had sent him here.

His orders had been cryptic. Simply that Vader had to come to this sector and oversee the negotiations between the Empire and the Emissary for the Hutts. If things went as planned then they would begin the process of slowly assimilating the Hutts into their Empire, first by presenting themselves as allies and then by chipping away at the Hutts control of this part of space with time.

He understood this method in theory, it was similar to the way his Master had assumed control of the festering failed Republic and replaced it with the Empire, but he longed for a more direct approach.

If they simply slaughtered the Hutts they could easily assume control.

But the chaos and power vacuum those actions would create would not be conductive to establishing Order, and could result in a drop in production of the vital resources they needed from Hutt Space.

The one small mercy in this mission was that Vader had not been ordered to handle the negotiations directly, and would be able to remain in orbit around the planet as he oversaw the meetings.

Not for the first time since they had entered the system, Vader pulled a chronometer up on his red tinted viewscreens, anxiously drinking in the date.

All other reasons for the trip aside, the fact remained that his Master was mocking him, sending him to this place at this time.

"My Lord, we just received communications from our agents on the planet, they are requesting back up," said an officer, who had come up behind Vader where he was staring at the planet from the Star Destroyer's massive viewports.

"Well? Send a battalion." He wished he knew why officers always felt they needed to run every little maneuver by him. It was tiresome to constantly be bothered by such simple procedures.

"Will you be joining them, My Lord?"

Join them? On that planet's surface? Why would he ever do that?

The date blinked at him on the viewscreen. Vader frowned, ignoring how the facial movement tugged on scar tissue, causing pain flares across necrotic patches.

He spoke before he could fully process the words he was saying. A habit he had thought he had broken himself of years earlier. "I will join them on the planet's surface, waiting at a different location. If they need aide I will be available, but I hope they are competent enough to finish their task without any further assistance."

The officer nodded, turned and left. Vader watched her reflection on the viewport, his frown growing deeper and deeper. Why had he said what he had? Because of the date? Was he letting Skywalker's weaknesses get to him again?

Still, it would not hurt, to go and reflect on the failures of his past. To remember how Skywalker's insipid ideals had allowed those pathetic farmers to steal his mother away.

Had he listened to the Force when it first warned him of his mother's demise, then he could have been her hero. Could have been the one to free her, and then brought her off world where she would have been safe.

Instead those undeserving peasants had bought her, had taken her to the middle of nowhere, and then misplaced her and allowed her to die.

He never should have questioned his visions, never should have waited to act.

Yes. Yes, he would go and pay his respects at the site of Skywalker's first great failure. Doing so would not be the result of sentiment, but instead a reminder that he should do better.

He turned away from the veiwport, from the sight of that hateful planet hanging before him, all orange and yellow and browns, and made his way to the transports. He would travel alone. Best for no others to witness where he was going, no others to see the grave and potentially figure out who he had once been.

Piloting to where he wanted to go was surprisingly challenging.

He knew the farm had been somewhere near the Jundland wastes, that was where his mother had died… but that was all he knew.

The shuttle he had taken flew low, circling the desert until he spotted the abandoned remains of a destroyed Tusken village. Suppressing the memories of the last time he was there, Vader traced a path from the village to a farm seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

On a small ridge near the farm he set his ship down, then approached the sad complex of domes rising out of the sand.

His mother's grave was worn, smoothed down by the planet's harsh winds and vile sand. The stone came to his ankles and no higher, one of four rectangles representing the dead of a family she did not truly belong to. She was not _theirs_. She did not _belong_ with them. She was _his._ Should have remained his alone, not dead and part of some other family, a family he had never had any interest in being part of.

Why had he come here, what had he hoped to accomplish? His mother was not here, nothing of her remained, not even her presence in the Force.

He turned slightly, sensing a presence to his side.

At first he assumed the figure he spotted lingering by the farm, watching him, was a hallucination. A memory made manifest by the heat, memory and the Force itself. A small boy, hair shaggy and bleached by the suns, dressed in sand-stained white rags, near in age to what he had been when he had left this planet behind.

He moved to approach the mirage, and the boy retreated down the steps and out of sight.

Interesting.

Following the child, he stepped down into the small dome's entryway. The door was closed when he reached it, and pressing the entry pad next to it did not open the door. He attempted to use the Force to open it, but it was solidly built, a blast door made to withstand sandstorms and all the worst Tatooine had to offer.

He stepped back, impressed with the child's preservation instincts.

Knocking was of course in order, but…

But…

That presence!

Far out in the desert, but approaching fast.

No, could it be?

He turned quickly, striding away from the door and back to the empty expanse. Each step was more difficult than the last, as the ever present sand got into his suit, sticking in the gears of his limbs.

That hated presence was still far away, just past the edges of his senses, when the door slid open once more, and he heard the scramble of tiny feet on the sand.

"Hey, mister, are you ok?" The high pitched voice of a child, innocent and unafraid.

He turned, and there was the boy. While he had resembled Vader's younger self from a distance, closer up the differences were easier to pick out. The child's face was dotted by a smattering of moles - no, beauty marks, Padmé had always insisted he call hers beauty marks. His nose was all wrong, wider and softer, as were his eyes.

Vader did not respond to the question, opting to stand there inspecting the child's features, wondering who he could be. Was he some relative of the peasants who had stolen his mother away? Or perhaps he was the child of some other family, one that had seized this farm after those idiots had inevitably died, much as they had gotten his mother killed exactly ten years before.

"Do you wanna come inside? My aunt always say it's rude to leave guests out in the suns."

"If it is rude to leave visitors outside, why did you shut the door in the first place?"

"I thought you might've been sent by the Hutts, you look like a bounty hunter in that armor! But you didn't act like one of Jabba's enforcers when you got to the door, so you must be a guest!" The boy paused his too-quick speech, eyes growing wide before he asked, "...You weren't sent by the Hutts, right?"

"No." The boy's posture relaxed. No one's posture relaxed when Vader spoke. "I do not work for the Hutts."

"Then who _do_ you work for?"

"Why do you assume I work for someone else?"

"Well why else would you be _here_? No one would ever come here unless they absolutely _had_ to."

He could not deny that logic.

"I work for the Empire."

The boy's posture straightened, and his face split into a wide grin.

"Are you from the academy? I know I was supposed to wait at least another six years before I sent the application, but Biggs always says I am already the best bush pilot in the whole Outer Rim territories and I have been studying real hard! My aunt got me a training datapad for the academy, and I look at it _every night!"_ The boy gestured inside, every movement suffused with excitement. "Wanna see it?"

This… was not what he expected. Not at all.

He checked on that presence once more, and found it still drawing nearer. If he stayed put he would bring the fight to him, there was no need to pursue it. Further, the longer he stood outside, the more sand got into his suit, grinding into his wounds. Each grain causing a spike of intense searing pain. If he followed this child he would be in better shape for the battle to come.

There was clutter piled inside the entry dome, and a set of rough hewn stairs. He followed the boy down them, making note of the open door leading to the garage where he spent most of his visit the first and last time he had been there. The boy led him down a turn in the hall, to even more steps, and then an open air courtyard, low enough to escape sandstorms and pumped full of artificially cooled air.

The space buzzed and groaned with working machinery, at its center was was a massive vaporator moisture condenser, ancient yet well maintained.

The boy grabbed at his gloved hand, and tugged him to his right, to the door that undoubtedly contained his room. He rushed up the stairs, calling after Vader as he did.

How had he won this child's trust so quickly? Were all children so naive and foolish? He supposed they must be, the youths in the Temple had certainly trusted him well enough, even though Skywalker had always begged out of all duties relating to their care.

There was barely enough space for the two of them inside the boy's room. The child was positioned on his bed, grabbing something on a shelf right above it. For his part Vader shifted awkwardly on the rug.

The rug.

He knew this rug.

In an instant his guard was back up, staring down at the reminder of what he had lost.

The rug in the boy's room was the very same one that had once lined the floor of his mother's chambers in their hovel. It had been dyed a brighter shade of red, but he knew the pattern, and in one corner was a burn from an accident with one of his mother's tools he'd had when he was younger.

Why did this child have his mother's rug?

"See, this is the datapad right here and-" the voice trailed off, the boy had probably realized Vader was not paying him any attention.

"Boy, where did this come from?" Vader asked, gesturing towards the red patterned rug so there could be no doubt about what he meant.

The grin slipped off the boy's face, replaced by an odd sort of sorrow. "My grandma brought it, when she married my grandpa, years ago."

"Your grandmother?" Impossible. His mother had not had any children with that unworthy farmer.

The boy nodded all the same. "Today's her death day," he said, driving the spike of confusion and pain deeper into Vader's chest. "Don't be sad mister! I didn't know her, 'cause she died before I was even born."

"Where are your parents, child?" Perhaps if he met them he could understand how this came to be, a youth claiming Vader's own mother as his kin.

"Oh, they're dead. My dad was a navigator on a space cruiser, so no one even knows who my mom was, she could have been anyone! From anywhere! But they both died and I got sent here, the furthest rock from _anything_."

There was no reason for the boy to provide all the detail he did, yet he seemed so serious rattling it off that Vader did not interrupt. He kept doing that. Humoring the boy. He could not quite understand why. "I… see. Do you happen to know their names?" There was something here, something that did not make any sense, and he hoped to get to the bottom of it.

"I **_just_ **told you! I don't know who my mother was!" The boy whined, fiddling with the datapad he held, the Imperial crest embossed on its back. He frowned when Vader remained silent after his outburst, lips pursing in displeasure, and continued, "my dad's name was Anakin, and one day, I'm going to get off this rock and see the stars, just like he did!" The boy's chin - the faint dimple suggesting a future cleft like Skywalker's - thrust into the air at an angle, challenging Vader to disagree.

Vader could not breathe.

That was not an unusual state of affairs, his respiratory system had been so badly damaged that he was deemed unfit for even the most advance pulmonodes on the market. Still as they always did when his internal systems failed, the various lights on his chest began to flash and beep and whirr, as secondary systems kicked in to restore normal functioning.

A son.

He had a son.

 _How_ could he have a son?

He remembered how closely he had guarded his scant possessions as a child, assumed this boy felt much the same about his own. It was hard, and took all of his control, but he managed to keep his reaction contained. Some of the wooden toys - handmade with great care - shook on their shelves, but he did not break any of them.

The boy - his son! - watched the shaking toys and Vader's chestbox flair to life. He did not look concerned or ask anything about the flashing lights, instead biting his lip and looking ashamed.

"Oh no, I forgot to offer you something to drink! Aunt Beru says you're always supposed to give guests something to drink!" Tiny hands grabbed Vader's large glove once more, tugging him out into the courtyard and into a dining room across the way.

"Do you like blue milk?" Vader's son asked, serious as can be. "Or should I get you water instead?"

He did not know how to respond, what to say.

That he could not consume either beverage?

That he merely wanted to know how this boy could have possibly come to exist?

It was clear this child did not have any answers, not to the most important questions at the very least.

His child moved towards the kitchen, and Vader followed, unwilling to let him out of his sight.

Vader gestured for his son to wait and filled a pitcher with blue milk for him, after he watched the boy attempt to climb onto the countertop so he could reach the dispenser. The full pitcher was set out on the table, and Vader sat down, uncomfortable, unsure what his next move should be.

Part of him wanted to take his son off-world with him immediately, get off this terrible planet, claim the boy as his own and never look back. Yet if he did that he would lose this chance to finally kill Obi-Wan. Finally get his revenge.

The boy was unaware of Vader's internal struggle, kneeling on a chair and attempting to pour two glasses of milk out of the pitcher. It was too heavy for him, and milk spilled all over the table as his hands shook under the weight.

Eventually he filled the glasses most of the way, pushed a glass in front of Vader, and then began to drink from his own glass, beaming with pride at having completed the simple task.

The two of them sat at the table, watching each other. Vader not knowing what he could possibly say, his son contentedly drinking his milk.

His son's glass was nearly empty when there was a noise from the other side of the structure. A garage access being called to the surface. Then some clangs, and voices, raised and stressed.

"I thought we told you to keep away!" An unfamiliar man's voice, gruff and wary.

"Owen, please, at least hear him out!" An unknown woman's, soothing and exasperated.

Then a third voice spoke, and Vader filled with pure rage, the Dark Side rising within him promising the speaker the death he deserved. That voice was impossible to forget, and hated beyond any other.

Outside the underground structure Obi-Wan said, "Owen, please you need to listen to me, he's _here_! You need to pack your things and go. He's… oh sweet Force, he's already inside the house! Where is Luke, please tell me he was out with his friends!"

He stormed away from the dining room where he sat with his son (his name was Luke, according to what he overheard his son's name was _Luke_ ), then easily leaped from the courtyard back to the desert outside.

There.

Standing beside an aging eopie, back to him, was Obi-Wan.

Look how old he got. How sad. How pathetic. All withered and grey and disheveled.

He was a shadow of the proud strong Jedi who had nearly killed him less than a decade before.

Had Obi-Wan spent all this time in this horrible place?

How grand, to know he had spent the past seven years living in agony.

Vader's lightsaber flaired to life with a snap, he moved closer and closer to his target with every passing moment.

The woman spotted him first, and turned towards the others shouting. She did not finish her warning, her trachea crushed before she could.

Her companion, bearded and disheveled, moved towards his speeder, pulling a slugthrower out from within. He had only just begun to raise it when Vader's lightsaber flew through the air, cutting him neatly in half.

The element of surprise was lost, but Obi-Wan reacted as Vader had expected, stopping to acknowledge and mourn the corpses.

He was still as weak as Vader remembered.

 _Pathetic_.

To think that Vader had once let this fool drag him down alongside him. To curb Vader's power with foolish suggestions like "protecting the weak." Vader had gained more power than Skywalker could have ever imagined ever since he had realized how beneath him such distractions were.

When Obi-Wan turned around, there were tears in his eyes. His weakness truly knew no end. "What have you done!"

"What I must. They would have only gotten in our way."

"Don't you know who they were? They were your family! Your only family!"

"No. My only family is the child you took from me. The boy you kidnapped!"

"You know you can not defeat me Darth." Obi-Wan's voice trembled, stumbling when he got to his statement's end. He used no name, just Vader's title.

"I know no such thing. When I left you I was but the student, but now I am the Master. The circle is now complete. Our long awaited meeting -"

"Uncle Owen! Aunt Beru!" Luke was screaming from the domed structure's door. "No! No! Please get up! Uncle Owen! Aunt Beru!"

He was running now, tiny legs bringing him closer and closer to the battle about to take place.

Both Vader and Obi-Wan watched him as he ran, the hated old Jedi's face twisted into an expression of profound grief and horror.

The boy ran past them both, the brewing battle of little concern. He was at the corpses now, grabbing them and gathering them in his arms. He was wailing and screaming and crying and the Force pulsed around the weight of his agony.

Obi-Wan slowly backed away from Vader, lightsaber still hanging at his side. Was he retreating before their fight even began? How typical of the coward.

It was not until Obi-Wan was almost at the boy's side that Vader realized what he was doing, that Obi-Wan was hoping to steal away Vader's child.

He could not have that.

Not again.

He tossed the boy away from their fight, making sure to cushion his landing. It made no sense to injure him _before_ his Sith training began.

Obi-Wan was distracted by this action, his attention fully on the boy, and Vader did not hesitate to strike. He knew better than to underestimate _this_ old enemy.

Their blades whirred through the air, clashing with bright sparks over and over again. Despite many years since their last battle, they both fought as if no time at all had past.

Then - an opening - Obi-Wan glancing to the side, distracted, looking instead at the boy.

Vader swung hard, expecting his blow to be parried, but it landed even as Obi-Wan dodged.

His arm was still attached, unfortunately, but it now bore a deep cut. The blade had cauterized the wound as it sliced through skin and muscle, so there was limited blood, but there was now a gorge in the old Jedi's shoulder.

The fight's balance shifted after that. Where they were once evenly matched, Obi-Wan now faltered.

With his injury Obi-Wan could not hold his blade quite right, his left arm nearly immobile and distracting him from the fight.

Finally Vader took another hard swing, this time aiming the blow for Obi-Wan's neck, and to his surprise the man simply vanished, leaving nothing behind but the rags he had worn.

Vader peered down at the pile of cloth, poking it with one foot in the hopes of discovering how Obi-Wan had pulled off that trick. His efforts ended when he noticed the sound of sobbing to his side, locating the boy kneeling by the corpses still, moaning and shaking as he clung to the dead.

The fight with Obi-Wan had to have lasted for over an hour - why had the boy not fled? What could have compelled him to stay near those bodies this whole time? They did not deserve such loyalty, not from him.

"Luke, it is time for us to leave this place."

His son glanced up, tears spilling from eyes the same shade as Skywalker's. Vader already knew he would almost regret it when those eyes inevitably turned yellow. Almost.

"They're dead! My family, and Ben! They're-"

"No, they were _not_ your family."

Luke ignored him, turning his attention back to the dead, still trembling with the force of his tears, acting as if _they_ mattered more than his father.

He would learn better with time.

No one in the galaxy should matter more to him than his father.

"As for that old man, he was the one to blame."

"He… Ben killed my aunt and uncle?"

What a convenient explanation that offered.

It would not be a lie.

After all, Obi-Wan had doomed those peasants the moment he brought Vader's son to them to raise. Their death warrant had been signed when Obi-Wan had decided to kidnap the child, and they had agreed to assist with the crime.

As always, it was all Obi-Wan's fault.

"Yes. He was the one responsible for their deaths."

The boy wiped at the snot hanging from his nose, leaving a trail of sand behind. "And… and you made him pay?"

"Yes."

"Did'ya know them?"

"No."

His son was not paying attention to him again - what appeal did the corpses have to him? He kept ignoring Vader in their favor.

"Luke, come with me."

The boy was not looking at him, still focusing on the peasants. Yet he was not _ignoring_ his father, not quite. That was evident when he asked his father a question. "You mean to… to the academy?"

"Perhaps, in time. If you would like. Luke, there is more. Something you must know."

The boy did not respond, running a hand over the dead woman's hair instead.

"Luke, you have not been told the truth about what happened to your father."

This caught the boy's interest enough that he turned away from the unworthy peasants, brow furrowed, nose wrinkled with suspicion.

"My father?"

"Yes Luke. Your father is not dead."

"He… he isn't?" For the first time since he had run out to discover the bodies, his voice contained an emotion other than grief. "How'd you know that?"

"I know that Luke because... because _I_ am your father."

Eyes widening, Luke shook his head, the movement causing his overgrown hair to swish about from side to side. "But that's impossible, you can't be my dad!"

"I am the man who was once known as Anakin Skywalker, the only child of Shmi."

"You… you came back for me?" His voice hitched as he spoke, gazing up at Vader with wonder.

"Yes my son. Now it is time for us both to depart. To leave this sand covered hell and never return."

"Can I say goodbye to my friends?"

"No Luke. You must..." He glanced at his mother's grave, then back at the child, "never look back."

"Shouldn't we bury them first?"

Why did the boy refuse to let go of the peasants?

Vader wanted to say no, to just leave their corpses to rot in the suns and be done with it all.

Instead he nodded, and the boy ran inside to retrieve two shovels. Together they added more graves to the small collection at the house's side.

Sand got everywhere inside Vader's suit. It stuck to his sensitive skin, clogged his respirator, and got in the way of the delicate machinery of his prosthetics.

Once they were done he permitted the boy to pack a small bag, and led him onto his shuttle. The child was still upset, still sniffling and producing mass quantities of snot, but Vader could work with that. Use the emotion to foster a connection to the Dark Side within his son.

He did not yet know how the negotiations with the Hutts he was supposed to be overseeing had gone, but Vader was leaving the planet with a hated enemy destroyed and the most precious resource of them all by his side. He would have to thank his Master for ordering him to come to this Force-forsaken place. It had been a highly successful expedition.


	3. Quarsh Panaka

The start of this one, and especially the dialogue, comes from Claudia Gray's _Leia: Princess of Alderaan._ Specifically from the end of Chapter 12.

There are also a couple of lines in it taken from _Darth Vader (2015-2016) #6_ by Kieron Gillen.

Ending this one was particularly hard. Mainly because no matter how I tried to reach a good stopping point, I just wanted to keep going.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: In which Saw Gerrera does not assassinate Quarsh Panaka, and Chapter 12 of _Leia: Princess of Alderaan_ has a different end.**

 **16 AFE**

* * *

"Meeting you has been a unique experience, I shall speak to Palpatine himself about this." Moff Panaka said.

"About the miners?" Leia asked, hoping beyond hope that her meeting with the Imperial Moff would lead to better conditions for the exploited workers on Naboo's moon.

Panaka shook his head. "About you, Your Highness. I think he should know the Organas adopted a daughter of such distinction."

"If you'd mention the miners too, I'd appreciate it," she said as she slid her hand out from his grasp.

"Of course. I meant what I said, Princess Leia. The miners' supervisors will not get away with such petty thievery ever again."

Leia had not understood why the Moff had asked her so many questions about her adoption. About when exactly she had been born. Not then. Understanding would come later.

As she and Queen Dalné walked back to the _Polestar_ together Leia tried and failed to make sense of the meeting. What could Panaka have meant?

Dalné had her theories, suggesting that perhaps the Moff was interested in her because he had once been friends with Leia's father, and they had a falling out.

Leia was less sure, proposing instead that as a friend of Palpatine's the man disliked Leia's father for being such an outspoken critic of the Emperor.

Neither answer seemed quite right.

The matter troubled her all the way home.

* * *

He was reading reports about the Rebels on Lothal. The Jedi in their midst had to be dealt with, and the inquisitors had been dispatched to handle the situation. More importantly, he knew that Ahsoka was with them. If they crushed these Rebels, then she would reveal herself. Perhaps he could convince her to join him. If not, she would have to be eliminated.

There was an alert that flashed on his viewscreen, his Master was requesting a meeting with him immediately.

He closed the files he had been reviewing, and made his way to where the holoprojector was located in his chamber. He switched the device on, and kneeled in anticipation of his Master's hologram entering the space.

His gaze was focused on the ground in front of him, so he did not see his Master's image as it flickered in room, but he did see the blue light from the holoprojector as it danced across the floor. Why had his master requested this meeting? What was so urgent that Vader's work was to be interrupted?

"What is thy bidding, my Master?"

"I have just received the most interesting news from Naboo."

"From Naboo?" Vader could not understand what could possibly be happening on Naboo that his Master would want to share with him. Unless…. No. Such things were impossible.

"Yes. Moff Panaka had the most fascinating report for me."

Vader looked up, eyes narrowing at his Master behind his mask. What game was his Master playing?

A broad grin on his oversized and flickering face, Palpatine nodded. "Yes, the most fascinating report indeed. Panaka had two visitors earlier today. One of whom was Naboo's current Queen and the other…" Palpatine laughed, and Vader frowned. Panaka? Naboo's queen? Was this some new torture his Master had devised for him? "It seems Lord Vader that Panaka is convinced the other was the daughter of Padmé Amidala."

"What?" He could feel his tightly wound control slip. The ground below him was starting to shake, and tiny fissures were cracking the dark reflective surface, radiating out from where he knelt.

He couldn't do this now. Could not let his Master see him react in this way.

Later, when he was alone, then he would allow this discovery to impact him (if only he could have learned of this before his Master, if only he had time to prepare for this meeting).

He shoved his feelings about having a daughter down, placed them next to his feelings about Padmé and his mother, in that space he rarely touched. "Is this a joke?"

"Search your feelings, Lord Vader. You will find this is no hoax. Panaka reported the child was born when Amidala died, and was adopted shortly thereafter by a friend of Kenobi's. Apparently she looks far too much like the woman he used to serve for him to conclude otherwise."

He had a daughter.

A _daughter_.

Yes. Yes the Force sang of her presence now that he knew to look for it.

There was an excited hum of reunion pulsing just beyond the present. His child was not just alive, she was in the Core, and he would find her soon.

"We must find the girl, Master. She will be a powerful ally."

"Yes, yes. I have already ordered her kidnappers' arrest."

A surge of rage, stronger than any he had felt in a decade and a half, swept over Vader, leaving behind tingles and jolts. His muscles flexed in anticipation, he had not felt this _powerful_ in years.

Such an order would warn the criminals that he was coming, that he would bring their doom. The moment his Master had issued the order he had undoubtedly sent them off on the run. He was angry at his Master for that but… but also…

All these years, all these years believing that he had…

No.

No.

He could not allow himself to feel this, not when he was the focus of his Master's attention.

Later.

Later, once he had his daughter secure by his side, he would explain to her just what Sidious had done. They would experience that rage together.

For now Vader focused his anger towards the kidnappers. The people who kept him from his daughter for sixteen whole years.

Well no longer.

By the end of this day he would possess her as he should have from the start.

"Ah, Lord Vader! Your rage! It consumes you!"

Good, Sidious thought the anger was directed at the kidnappers alone.

"Master, do you know who took her?"

"Yes. Yes, Panaka was most informative."

He waited, wishing he could hurry Sidious along. Time was of the essence, each moment spent on this conversation one that could have been used to track her down.

The chamber never felt so expansive, his breathing echoing back around him as the respirator did its job.

"Alderaan, Lord Vader. She was taken by the House of Organa on Alderaan."

He nodded and before their connection disconnected he said, "I want you to know, I will not fail."

It was a promise he intended to keep.

After this day he would have an apprentice of his own, and Sidious' days would be numbered.

* * *

Leia stepped off the _Polestar_ at the Aldera City spaceport, and was met immediately by her parents. Neither of them looked pleased.

"Of all the systems you could have gone to Leia, you pick Naboo? What were you thinking? Were you thinking?" Her father was furious, angrier than Leia had ever seen him, but also so very very scared. He hid it well, but she could see it in the clench of his hands, how his eyes darted to the side as if trying to detect attackers.

"How could she have known Bail? She had no idea and now… Oh my love, I do not know what to do!" Her mother looked faint, pale - almost the shade Leia's own skin got after too long in the sun, and her eyes were red rimmed. For the first time in Leia's known memory Queen Breha seemed to not even notice the crowds around them, allowing herself to appear vulnerable while in the public eye. She grasped Leia close as soon as she drew near, clutching her daughter tight against her softly glowing chest.

Something dire was clearly underway, but Leia could not figure out what it possibly could be.

"Leia, we need to plan fast. It may still be possible for us to run and hide. Get on the _Tantive IV_ and leave Alderaan in the care of regents until such a time we may return."

Clearly they had surpassed dire and were in the midst of a full blown crisis.

"What?"

"Oh Leia, we don't blame you. How were you to know? But sweetheart, we were just notified there is a warrant out for our arrest."

Her eyes widened and she desperately took stock of all the conversations she had on her most recent mercy mission. Had she inadvertently given away that her parents were Rebels? Surely not, she had thought she had been so careful…

"We must leave now. We did not want to depart without you, and that has delayed our escape long enough. If we wait any longer **_he_** may capture us all."

Who was this _he_ , the pronoun spoken by Leia's father with so much weight. Nothing of this conversation made any _sense_.

She allowed her parents to lead her up the _Tantive IV_ 's boarding ramp, through its familiar halls. Her father broke off from her and her mother to speak with Captain Antilles in hushed tones, and the familiarity of the two men conspiring together almost gave the whole affair a touch of normalcy.

Almost.

* * *

Vader ordered the Imperial fleet move immediately to block the hyperspace routes connected to Alderaan. They would be waiting along every known route with gravity wells engaged, and no ship was to leave until a thorough check of all compartments had been completed. Vader would take no chances securing his daughter into his custody

He let the Force guide his decision when choosing the route he would be personally patrolling. Even if he was somehow wrong about where his daughter would be, he was certain she would still be captured elsewhere, but he was sure she would come directly to him.

He could feel her approach, knew the distance between them would end soon.

He felt alive in ways he had not in years.

Just this morning he had thought himself alone.

Had been resigned to a life where all meaning had been lost.

He was waking up, and soon, soon, she would be his as she always should have been, and he would show her all the wonders of the Force and of their shared destiny.

Together they would destroy Sidious.

Together they would make him pay for his lies.

They would have their revenge.

* * *

"Mother, I don't understand, what is going on?" What could be so emergent that her parents would flee the planet they ruled, what could have caused a warrant to be issued against people as respected as them?

Her mother was still clinging to her, as if she'd disappear if she let go. Breha drew back just slightly - she was trembling - and looked Leia in the eyes.

"I never wanted you to carry this burden. Please know we did all we could to keep you safe from these truths. Your father and I have feared this day ever since we were first blessed with meeting you."

"Mom?"

Breha sighed, heavy and pained, and smoothed back some hair that had gotten loose from one of Leia's braids. "Sweetheart, that man you spoke with today, Moff Panaka, he was close with your… with the woman who gave birth to you."

Leia did not understand. Her biological mother had been friends with a Moff? Her brain caught up with how interested the man had been in her adoption. How sure he had been the Emperor would be similarly intrigued.

"Mom… why did he think the Emperor would care about me?" She already suspected the answer, but did not want it to be true.

"She was also friends with Palpatine," her mother said, confirming Leia's worst fears. Yet even if that was the case, it did not explain the rest of it, why her family was fleeing, why her parents said they were in danger of arrest.

Her mother drew her close once more, hugging her tight. "There is more, Leia. Terrible secrets your father and I had to keep so you would be safe."

What could be worse than knowing her biological mother had kept company with Moffs and dictators?

"Your biological father is alive, and he is coming now to claim you. Your father and I are being charged with kidnapping."

"What!?" In all her sixteen years of life, Leia never expected to hear something so absurd. "But he is dead, he died fighting in the Clone War. You were always very clear that -"

"We _lied_ ," Her mother said it as if this was a simple white lie, not a life changing revelation, "he is alive, and he is a monster unlike any other. We had to keep you safe."

Leia frowned, "I take it that this biological father of mine is an Imperial as well?"

"Yes," Breha said. It came out quiet and broken and sad. "Leia, he is… it's Darth Vader."

Vader?

She hadn't even been aware the Emperor's right hand was Human, much less capable of fathering children. The idea that behind that mask may be a man, a man she was _related_ to was just… impossible.

Her father entered the room she and her mother were huddled in, drawing close to his family. "Everything is in place. We've plotted a course that should have enough jumps to throw off anyone trying to track us, and we will be somewhere safe soon."

"Dad, please. Please tell me mom is lying about… about what is going on. That monster can not be my… be…" She could not help but burst into sobs. This was so overwhelming. Too much to take in.

Her father leaned towards her, wiping a tear from her eye before placing one arm around her and the other around her mother. "I am sorry Leia. We did our best to keep you safe from this, for as long as we could."

"I don't understand, were…" she tried her best to calm herself, to cease her tears, "am I really the daughter of fascists?"

"No. No my love, no. You must never forget that you are _our_ daughter. Beyond that, your biological mother, she was one of my dearest friends," Leia's father soothed. "She was a good woman, and a founding member of our rebellion. She was tricked, like most of us at that time, into believing the evil men around her were far better people than they truly were. She paid the price for that mistake."

Bail shook his head. "I was there at her side when you were born, when she died. He… Vader, he was not a fit father. He had hurt her badly before she went into labor, nearly killed her, and we were scared that he would abuse you as well," Bail paused, taking a breath, studying his daughter's face. "She would be so proud of the woman you are growing up to be."

There was a knock on the corridor wall, next to the door. It had not automatically slid shut after Leia's father had entered, and had been open to the hall. How much had the guards heard?

"Your Majesties, I hate to interrupt a moment between your family, but we have just been caught in a Star Destroyer's gravity well," Captain Antilles said. "I am certain they will deploy a tractor beam to bring our ship on-board their own in moments."

Hopelessness washed over Leia in waves, swelling with each sob her parents let out.

She buried herself in their arms, pretending their embrace would make this whole situation go away. It wasn't fair that her parents were getting dragged into this.

Then a thought. A way she might perhaps ensure their safety.

"Captain, would it be possible to open a comm channel to the Star Destroyer?" Her voice shook as she asked, but she pulled away from her parent's arms, and straightened her posture.

"I don't see why not Your Highness. Why?"

"I would like to negotiate with them," she said. Her expression was more a grimace than an actual smile. "I believe I have something they would want, something valuable enough they might trade for a clean record for my parents."

"What is that Your Highness?" Raymus Antilles asked, his question almost drowned out midway through by both of her parents' protests.

"My cooperation, Captain." Leia drew herself to her full height, all unimpressive 1.55 meters, and prepared herself to walk to the cockpit where the ship's comms waited. She did her best to ignore her parents' shouts, to ignore the part of her that worried she may never see them again. This was necessary to protect them. To keep them safe.

Before she could set off her father grasped at her arm, pulled her back towards him and her mother, and she struggled to break free.

Didn't they understand that she needed to keep them safe? Her mother was needed to rule Alderaan, and her father was needed to manage the Rebellion.

She was _nowhere_ near as important as either of them.

There was an awful moan and shudder as the _Tantive IV_ was pulled inside the Star Destroyer. Through it all her parents kept their arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, keeping her safe.

There were boots in the hall, shouts and blasters and the smell of burnt flesh. Leia pressed in closer to her parents for comfort. There was actual fighting in the halls! Leia had never been so close to combat before, and now people she knew, people she _liked_ were being slaughtered by Imperials just a hallway away.

Thank the Force Kier had taken her to the shooting range for her first shooting lesson (their first date, her first ever _date_ ) so recently. While she didn't carry a blaster on her (why would she?) it was a comfort to remember she would know what to do if she needed to use one.

She shut her eyes tight, as if the lack of vision would block out the sounds and smells of the fight… and then there he was. Hissing wheezing loud artificial breathing, so unlike her mother's pulmonodes, filled the room, alerting her to his presence.

She opened her eyes, and stared at him through the shield of her parents' embrace. He loomed before her, impossibly tall and lacking in any sign that he was in truth an organic. That he could be her... that he could have contributed to her genetics. For a long time he stared at her as well.

All four of the room's occupants were silent, save for the respirator and the occasional sob.

There was a faint tingling at the base of Leia's spine. She was beyond uncomfortable under this man's gaze.

Suddenly he moved, shifting to turn to the troopers standing in the hall behind him. He raised a gloved hand, one finger extended in an accusing gesture, and jerked it towards Leia's family. "These two are traitors. Take them away!"

Leia quickly broke away from her parents, placing herself between them and the oncoming Imperial forces. "Lord Vader, please. I will go with you, so long as you drop the charges against my parents."

As she spoke both of her parents sobbed and cried. Her mother tried to beg her to stop, but Leia did her best to ignore her. She had to keep them _safe_.

"Your parents!? They deserve no such title. Those criminals will be tried for kidnapping. They have no claim on you."

She ground her teeth, grimacing as he spoke. "How can you be sure? You haven't even performed a blood scan!" If nothing else she hoped to delay her parents' arrest, for however long she could. If it took arguing down to the tiniest technicality she would, so long as it saved those who mattered to her most.

Her argument did not deter him. "There is no doubt that you are mine, the resemblance is too strong" he rumbled, and her heart plummeted.

His words scared her, scared her more than she had ever been before in her life. What if beneath that horrid mask was a face that resembled her own? What if she in truth was like him, more like him than she was like her beloved parents? Was that why she sometimes had trouble with her lessons, with the expectations placed upon her, because there was something within her, some part of her that came from him?

Icy fear swept through her, making a home in her heart, and she lost the nerve to keep arguing. Yet she had to press on, even through her fear. Had to find a way to ensure her parents would remain free. She thrust her chin at its most stubborn angle. "No. You will drop the charges. If you have any desire for me to… to go with you and ever acknowledge you in any way, you will let them go free."

There was a long pause. Leia did not know if he was considering her deal or waiting for her to recant it.

Finally after a wait that felt endless (but probably had only been minutes) that impossible to read mask moved slightly, the tiniest of nods. "Understand I do this only because you are my priority."

"I… thank you for sparing them, Lord Vader."

"No. You will address me as 'father.'"

Her lips twisted into a sneer.

Like hell she'd _ever_ address him in any such way.

* * *

His child was still talking, barking orders and commands he easily ignored.

He did not want to deal with these complications.

He wanted to destroy the kidnappers, leave her with no one to depend on save for him.

But he was too late.

Sixteen years too late.

The full extent of the damage these fools had done was still unknown.

They had long since captured his child and won her heart. Thanks to that trickery, if he gave them the end they deserved now, he would lose her forever.

He would not risk such a loss.

Securing his child as an ally was far too important.

He could already tell she would make a great Sith.

So full of anger. So _attached_.

She was just like him.

Even after all the kidnappers had undoubtedly done to turn her against him, she was so very much _his_.

With the assistance of this girl, he would have his Master overthrown far sooner than anticipated. He would take his place as the Sith Master, and she, his daughter, his _apprentice,_ would rule over the galaxy with all of Padmé's political finesse.

He could not imagine a more perfect resolution to the suffering he had endured.

For now his child would object, that was clear, but with time he could undo what the kidnappers had done, force her to understand the value of rage and pain and hate. Make her understand that compassion and peace and joy were nothing but lies, lies weaker beings created to curb the power of their betters. Betters, like the two of them.

Her kidnappers had done her no favors by convincing her weakness had value. They had not nurtured out of love, they had merely been afraid. Afraid of who she truly was, of what she was capable of. Shackling her to those false concepts much as the Jedi had once tried restrain him. But he would set her free. Free in a way he had never fully been, for his body had been destroyed when he was but on the cusp of realizing his power.

They had been chosen by the Force. Chosen to be _better_ than other sentients, chosen to rule, to hold the balance in their hands and twist it to their will.

Together the two of them could finally destroy all those who put up pitiful resistance, and rule the galaxy as the Force willed them.

"Have you been listening to a word I have been saying Lord Vader? When will you set my parents free! They must be returned to Alderaan immediately!"

He ground his teeth, the pressure causing shooting pains through his damaged face. "I have told you already, they are not your parents, and I am to be addressed as 'father.' I will not be capable of hearing a word you say until you comply."

Teaching her would not be easy, that was already clear. She had his stubbornness, and her mother's fire.

"I will not bow to your… you may be my biological father, but they… release my parents!" She kept stumbling as she spoke, the fear and anger that would soon be her constant companions still so new. He could feel the emotions swirling and pulsing around her. Still all was not yet ideal.

"Accept the truth of our relation. Only then will the criminals be returned to Alderaan."

Her nostrils flared, she bared her teeth and her eyes grew wide. Unknown to her, he mirrored her expression behind his mask.

She must have sensed his anger in the Force, as she backed down, her mask of resolve giving way to reveal that she was but a scared child. "I… I understand. Please…. Please set… set the..." she shut her eyes, drew in a breath, "set Breha and Bail Organa free."

He waited, making what he needed to hear known in the Force around him.

She understood the unspoken request, letting out a brief keening sound before her mask fell back in place, hard lines and fury making her face impossibly sharp. "Please… _father_. Let them go."

He nodded, quick to reward the behavior, and ordered for the kidnappers to be returned to their shimmering planet of blue and green and white, made sure to install guards to watch their every move. Oh they were still the planet's rulers, in name at least. They would know he was watching them close from here on out.

In time his daughter would understand that those fools had done nothing but harm her, training her to be soft and kind when by birthright she should have been anything but. On that day he would permit her to be the one to kill them both.

Until the day came that she understood, that she gazed upon him not with the aching brown eyes of his mother, of his wife, of _humanity_ , but rather with blazing yellow eyes just like his own… until that day he would make it clear that he could have the criminals killed at a moment's notice. That they lived by his mercy and whims alone, and her obedience was required least they both perish.

He would get her to listen to him, to acknowledge him, to submit to his control.

It would just take time (at long last he understood the value of patience and restraint).

He would not lose her as he lost her mother.

He would triumph, and he would make things as he had once dreamed them.

No one could stop him. Not with her by his side.


	4. IT-O

Sorry it took so long for this to be posted.

Originally this was going to be the fifth story in this collection, but the one about Luke going to the Academy and getting picked up by Project Harvester is fighting rather hard against being finished.

So rather than keep on struggling with that one, I decided to finish this one first.

Hope you are all as excited to see the Rebels series finale tomorrow as I am! I really can't wait!

* * *

Chapter Four: In which Vader tries to figure out exactly how Leia resisted his mind probe.

19 AFE

* * *

How was the girl hiding the information he desired?

Not only was it impossible for any being in the universe to resist his power, the droid had pumped her full of truth serum and inserted a neural probe into her!

For this to be happening the girl would have to be….

No, that was impossible.

Wasn't it?

Even if the Princess was Force-sensitive, it should not be possible for her to overpower _him._ He knew his power, knew how the Dark Side increased his already not inconsiderable strength.

There was no way this child could have more power than him.

Just who was this girl?

He reviewed the files that had been collected on her over the years, comparing the documents with his own impression of her since he'd captured her ship, as well as what little he had picked up about her simply due to her celebrity. He had never sought information about her out before, never even met her, but it was impossible to exist on Coruscant without hearing of the Alderaanian Princess.

He knew of course of her many, countless, mercy missions. How she would visit all sorts of pathetic populations and bring them food and aide they did not deserve. He knew those missions had often gone "wrong" and had been covered by the media as evidence of her foolhardy idealism and youth.

The Imperial Security Bureau had interviewed her several times about those losses. According to their reports, when pressed about why she would continue to carry out on these missions despite their negative outcome, she had claimed to feel an affiliation and connection with the galaxy's refugee populations, citing the fact she had been a war refugee herself prior to her adoption.

He suspected, given her now obvious affiliation with the Rebellion, that those missions had never gone wrong at all, and instead had always been intended to end the way they had.

She probably had planned and coordinated the theft of her ships herself.

The ISB agents who had interviewed her had bought her excuse about identifying with the galaxy's downtrodden. Incompetent fools, all of them. They had a Rebel in their grasps and they had let themselves be tricked by sentiment.

There was no bloodwork of any sort in any of her reports and profiles. Curious.

He dug through the holonet systems to pull up her Alderaanian legal files, looking for information that had not been submitted to central offices on Coruscant.

There were surprising gaps even in this information.

The paperwork corresponding to her adoption had far too many blank fields, the Organas claiming the names of either of her birth parents were unknown. However, the ISB reports documented that while she did not know their names, she knew vague details about both of her birth parents stories. That her father had fought for the Republic in the Clone Wars and had died in battle, and her mother had died just after her birth.

How could she know these details if the identities of her biological family were unknown? Most likely they were mere fairytales her parents had told her, a false story to create the most politically beneficial situation for Alderaan. What better way could exist to profess and prove a commitment to refugee rights, to proving refugees would be embraced as part of Alderaanian culture, than making one the heir to the throne?

But no, a false story would not be needed for that, would it? Simply saying the child was a war orphan would have been enough if she in truth was one. Why go so far as to make up and tell her tales about these people?

There was still the question of her Force-sensitivity to look into as well.

A simple blood test to check her midi-chlorian count would be easy enough.

He ordered one of the silent stony-faced guards who accompanied him on all matters related to interrogation to go and fetch some of the child's blood.

He had always known his Master's Inquisitors were incompetent fools, but if a celebrity like the Princess was indeed Force-sensitive, then they had been far more useless than he had ever suspected. A shame they were all already dead, he would have liked to punish and exterminate them himself.

The guard he had dispatched returned with a small vial of blood, and he fed it into the system. Then as an afterthought, he decided to test for any possible biological matches as well. Perhaps if he could undermine the fairytale she had been fed her whole life about her origins, he could shake her faith in her parents.

The computer beeped, and he had the data pertaining to her midi-chlorian count fed directly into his helmet's viewscreens. He was well aware the troopers who served him had been trained to never read over his shoulder, but he did not care to take risks with this information.

The number displayed right in front of his eyes could not be correct.

He had the computer calculate her midi-chlorian count again and then turned his attention to the scan for a biological match. So far one such match had been found, in an ancient archive pertaining to the Grand Army of the Republic. Fascinating, her parents had not lied about at least one of her biological parents being a soldier in service of the Republic.

He opened the file and froze.

Then he pulled up the feed from the security camera in her cell.

It hurt to look at her.

How had he missed it?

Her face was an amalgamation of his past.

Every time she moved it revealed new facets of familiarity, new wounds against his battered heart.

His bone structure. Padmé's poise. His mother's eyes. His nose. His mother's hair. Padmé's chin. His facial expression. Padmé's height. His mother's forehead. His stubborn pride.

He cataloged her features as he made note of them, each discovery more precious than the last.

His daughter.

His child.

His.

He had never allowed himself to imagine this could be possible.

Had known from the moment Padmé had told Skywalker that she was pregnant that he would not have a relationship with the child. When he had cast out towards the new life in the Force he had felt nothing. No love or affection or joy.

No.

No, that was not true.

He had felt something.

Pain. Hate, both the burning and searing and all-consuming sort as well as the smoldering and old deep seeded kind. Resentment.

The man Vader had once been had assumed the emotions he had felt were his own, his own pain and self-hate following the loss of the child.

At that time he had pulled away, had never tried to connect with the unborn child again after that first brush against her future relationship with him.

Whenever Padmé brought up the topic of their future, of being parents and what it might be like, he'd changed the topic or tuned her out, terrified of the future he could do nothing to prevent.

Then the dreams had started.

He had always known Skywalker had been a fool. He just had underestimated just how big of a fool he was.

The child was alive, and he had caused her pain.

The child was alive, and she hated him with a passionate fury that rivaled his own.

The child was alive, and he had given her more than enough cause to resent him.

The child was alive.

The child was alive.

He screamed.

His mouth went as wide as it possibly could go, his ruined lips breaking and bleeding.

Iden Versio's helmet fell from where she had placed it as she polished her armor.

The floor under Ciena Ree's feet shook until she stumbled, falling into the friend she had been conversing with. Jude Endivion had not minded, had been shocked that she had kept her footing when her friend the pilot had not.

Pamel Poul let out a stream of curses as the monitor she was observing flickered out.

MSE-6-G735Y spun in panicked circles as all of his navigational software went offline.

All across the Death Star the over a million Imperials stationed on board felt the aftershocks of Vader's scream.

Inside the room, the Troopers were torn apart.

Inside the room, the computer console rattled and shook and tore apart, pieces flying across the room.

The walls groaned and buckled, every surface that could cracked.

A noise brought Vader back to himself, a message from Tarkin displayed on his screen. He wished to meet with him, to talk about The Prin- about Vader's daughter.

He did not want to meet with Tarkin in the Death Star's control room. He would not have desired this meeting even had he not learned the truth he had just discovered.

He did not notice the trail of warped walls he left as he stormed through the halls. Did not see the lights on panels shatter, the shiny floors crack.

He was here to report...

To report...

What was he going to report? What should he say?

He decided to stall for time, merely reporting bare facts.

"Her resistance to the mind probe is considerable. It will be some time before we can extract any information from her."

An officer entered the room. He looked unsettled. "The final check-out is complete. All systems are operational. However several irregularities were reported just moments ago. Will we still be launching, Sir? What course shall we set?" he said in an even voice, fear radiating off him as he stood ramrod still. Had Vader not been able to sense the truth of his emotions in the Force he would have been fooled by the man's steely calm.

Tarkin did not respond immediately. He sat with his lips pressed tight, then nodded, offering Vader his thin lipless smile. "Perhaps she would respond to an alternative form of persuasion."

"What do you mean?" If this man threatened more harm against that which was Vader's, he would destroy him.

"I think it is time we demonstrate the full power of this station," Tarkin explained, giving Vader pause. While this would no doubt cause the child further harm, it would sufficiently punish every single Force-damned individual who had worked and conspired to steal his daughter away from him. In the time Vader pondered his next action, Tarkin gave the soldier his orders. "Set your course for Princess Leia's home planet of Alderaan."

Pleased to have been granted permission to order Vader in his Master's place, Tarkin commanded him to fetch the child from her cell.

He had been certain he would allow her homeworld to be the first target of this mechanical mistake. Had been prepared to escort her to the control room and force her to watch as her kidnappers were punished.

He had been wrong.

As soon as Cell 2187's door opened and he saw the occupant inside, he acted without thinking. The two silent guards by his side fell to the ground as he severed their tracheas, neither having any warning before their air supply cut off. All across AA-23 troopers fell as he disposed of them, leaving him and his daughter to talk in private.

His child - Leia - startled as she watched the two barefaced troopers collapse just outside her cell.

She was the only witness to their deaths, he had crushed every camera in Cellblock AA-23 with the Force.

He stepped into her cell, sealing the door behind him.

"Princess Leia. There is something I need you to do..."

"I believe I have already made it clear Lord Vader, you will learn no information from me."

"I no longer seek information pertaining to those plans."

"Then what is it you request of me?"

"I require you to join me in destroying the Emperor."

She snorted, the social niceties and political poise she had held herself to just moments earlier falling away. "You really expect me to buy this banthacrap?"

"We can rule the galaxy together. Both of us, together."

"Lord Vader, please, spare me this nonsense."

Right. She did not understand. How could she yet understand?

"Leia." He paused, wanting to say her name again. His vocoder had removed much of the emotional resonance of the name as he spoke it, but some still bled through. "Leia, I have just learned a truth that alters much."

He could feel it now, the disturbances in the Force as the future dramatically changed around the decisions the two of them were to make on this day. History pivoted on this moment, multiple potential futures swirling around them, waiting for their chance to be the path forward.

She said nothing in response, and she regarded him with clear disbelief.

It still hurt to look at her.

It would probably always hurt to look at her.

"Your blood samples were run through our databanks," he started to explain, "I have identified your biological parents."

"So? Who cares. They have nothing to do with anything, much less the life I lead."

"No. Leia, I am your father."

"What?" she started to laugh, deep and bitter, "that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

He had no datapad on him which could be used to show her the test results. Then he realized he had killed every being in AA-23 save for the two of them, so he could not order one be fetched. For a moment he feared he would be unable to prove to his child that he was her sire. There was a small display screen on his left glove. Perhaps he could pull the data up there?

Stepping closer to her, his black-clad frame filling so much of the confined space as her tiny white covered form shrank back on the bench, he said, "I will show you the tests that confirm our relation, then you will join me in destroying my Master. We will ensure true Order is enforced across the galaxy together as Father and Daughter."

"You're really committed to this new delusion of yours, aren't you?"

"Leia, look here and see," he said as he thrust the small screen on his wrist forward, showing her the read-out confirming she was the child of Anakin Skywalker.

"It puts a name to my paternity all right. That name isn't Vader though, it's Skywalker."

"All that was once Skywalker's is now mine," he said, hesitating slightly, uncomfortable admitting to his former weak self. "That is the name I was born with, but not a name I answer to any longer."

She studied him, one eyebrow arched, lips pursed. "You really expect me to buy this? Try to prove it."

He groaned, grateful his vocoder would not pick up the sound. There was no evidence directly linking him to Skywalker. He had destroyed it all years ago.

"I'm afraid Lord Vader that in absence of any real proof I can not believe your claim. Thank you however for informing me of my biological father's name, even if it was fully unsolicited and never truly desired."

No. No this is not what he wanted. His daughter, _his_ , accepting Skywalker as her parent but rejecting him. This was unacceptable.

He stepped out of the cell, sealing the door behind him. He did not want to harm her in his rage. He was certain if he did he would be unable to convince her to become his apprentice and assist him in deposing his Master.

What little was still intact in AA-23 was not when he was done releasing his feelings. Dead soldiers and bent mangled metal and electronics were scattered everywhere.

He knew she would never care for him.

That was not what he was seeking.

The Force had always been very clear that she would never feel anything other than hate towards him.

That was good. He wanted her to feel hate. To feel pain.

If she felt emotions such as love or compassion, it would only lessen the hold the Dark Side would have on her.

Was he allowing Skywalker's sentiments to get to him again? Was he treating her with compassion merely due to her parentage?

No. No. His hesitance to harm her was not because of weakness. It was a strategic move to ensure her compliance so she might become his apprentice. No more.

He was sure of it.

He sat down on what might have once been part of a computer terminal. He was no longer sure, the twisted metal had very little indication of its original form.

Soon Tarkin would dispatch troops to try and learn why he had yet to bring the - bring Leia to the control room. He had not planned for this. Had not planned for any of it.

Right now he had her in a place where she could not escape. When more troops were sent he could take care of them easily. But what then?

He had acted impulsively, the way Skywalker would have. He should have just delivered her to Tarkin. Then her kidnappers would have been punished, and she would have been in agony and more receptive to the Dark Side.

Yes.

Yes.

No reason to allow this setback to fully halt that progression of events.

He marched back into her cell, set on dragging her to the control room and forcing her to witness her home's destruction. If that didn't cause her to fall to the Dark Side nothing would.

The sight of her threw him once more. Now that he knew the truth of their relation she was just far too painful to look at. He found himself, for perhaps the first time in years, wishing desperately that he did not see the world through red tinted lenses. That he could see the exact shade of brown of her eyes - were they more like his mother's or his wife's? The shape of them was his own, his mother's own, of that there was no doubt, but just what color brown were they?

She stared at him in silence as he took her in, awed by the simple impossible enormity of her existence. He had never imagined this could be possible.

She broke the silence between them. "Lord Vader, what is it this time?"

She was growing bolder with each of his visits. He did not know if this was desirable or not. On one hand, it did not do for a future Sith to cow in terror, on the other it would make her harder to control.

He knew what he needed to do, he just did not know if he could do it. He needed to take her to Tarkin, needed to cause her the unimaginable pain of witnessing Alderaan's destruction. Needed to ensure she would fall.

More than anything he needed to find a way to discard Skywalker's weaknesses, which were growing stronger with each moment in her presence. The sickening need to be liked, to be wanted, to be needed.

He couldn't do it. He wanted to, but she looked too much like his mother. Knowingly delivering her to excruciating pain and heartbreak was no longer possible.

How had he failed to see who she was earlier?

He was about to respond to her question when he felt it. A presence he had not felt since that horrible day on Mustafar. Since the last time he had seen Leia's mother.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was onboard the Death Star.

* * *

Kriff this, those hicks had only paid to be ferried on over to Alderaan. That was it.

If he just disengaged the tractor beam, had the old man not wandered off… he could have still fulfilled his charter, taken 'em down to the planet this thing was orbiting around, and then made off with enough cash to get Jabba off his back forever.

Yet here he was, most decidedly not flying off and making good like he should be! No, instead he was crawling through an impossible artificial moon attempting to rescue a karking princess.

I mean hell, breaking _into_ an Imperial prison? What the krizz was he doing?

Worst yet, with the bad feeling he had, he just _knew_ that this day was going to find yet even more ways to sink deeper into poodoo.

* * *

He had frozen. Just frozen. Spent far too long in the ruined cellblock, trying and failing to think of his next move.

He had to find Obi-Wan.

He had to keep Leia near him.

It took a span of endless panic to realize he could search the station for his old Master, without leaving Leia behind. In fact, having her with him when he confronted the old fool would be beneficial for her. She could hear Obi-Wan confirm her heritage, and admit to kidnapping her. It would be impossible for her to deny the truth of the situation once she heard it from Obi-Wan himself.

He stormed into her cell, still not sure what to say, what to do once the two of them found Obi-Wan, but far more comfortable now that he had the beginning of a plan.

She sat up when he entered her cell, studied him with carefully constructed disinterest. "I already told you, Lord Vader, I don't believe your claims."

Did he need to put her in binders? He didn't really want to, didn't like the idea of putting his own child in restraints.

He shrank back towards the corner of the cell, uncertainty consuming him in her presence.

Perhaps that was why the Stormtrooper who burst into the cell didn't see him.

Leia, who had been glaring at Vader just moments earlier, turned her attention to the new presence in the claustrophobic space.

"What do you soldiers want now?"

"Huh? Oh!" The young soldier threw his helmet off, revealing his youthful face. He shook his overgrown mop of blonde hair out and gave Leia a grin.

"I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you." He tilted his head slightly to the side, "are you the one who killed all those troopers out there? Because that was really impressive."

For the second time that day Vader felt his world tilt on its axis.

Hopefully, this would be the last time this would happen.

He wasn't sure if he could take it if more secret children made themselves known.


	5. Owen Lars

All the thanks ever is owed to Nerdman3000 for pre-reading an earlier version of this chapter and reassuring me it was coherent, and to AbsolXGuardian for betaing it. I am so very grateful to you both.

* * *

Chapter Five: In which Uncle Owen puts his foot down just a bit too hard.

14 AFE

* * *

They had had another fight. Another fight where Luke asked for permission to leave, and Owen shot his hopes and dreams down.

He was never going to let Luke go. Never let him off this dust covered rock.

Owen had sent Luke to his room, to cool off after he had started to yell, and that had been a mistake. Because Luke now had a plan, a plan to get away from this place even if his uncle didn't approve.

He had, while he was at the height of his anger, grabbed a hold of a rucksack and started to fill it with clothes. He grabbed his datapad as well, and… that was really it. If he was finally going to go to the academy, then he wouldn't need his model ships, he'd have the real thing.

Now that he had calmed down a bit, Luke felt unsure. Could he do this? Run off in the dead of the night, and leave his family behind?

He wrote a note (addressed only to his aunt not to his uncle) apologizing for everything, trying his best to explain.

He worried over his decision for hours, before finally, finally, he hefted the bag on his back, and set off to find adventure at last.

* * *

Being an Imperial recruiter on Tatooine was not a cushy gig, mainly because it involved living and working on Tatooine.

At least the job didn't require Stormtrooper armor. From how the troopers complained, it was clear that their armor was unsuited for this planet's conditions.

Another positive was it meant you had great numbers to report back to your superiors, as just about every brat on this nothing pile of dust was desperate for a way out.

In his short time working in the office, the recruiter had seen all sorts of kids come in and beg for a new life. A life dedicated to protecting stability and order for the glory of the Empire. None of those kids had been quite as pathetic as the boy sitting before him now.

For one thing the kid was _tiny_ and overly skinny. His clothes were loose hanging rags, and all of him was covered in sand - as if he'd walked across the desert just to get here, and had rolled through it along the way just to be sure it got in every possible nook and cranny.

The boy probably should have been sent to Myomer with the rest of the nobodies who'd never amount to much but… He eyed the haphazard rucksack tossed in the corner.

A runaway.

That meant he wouldn't be writing home or looking to return. It meant the depersonalization training Stormtroopers went through would take that much easier.

He was short, shorter than trooper regs allowed, but he was only fourteen, and there was a chance that he still had another growth spurt or two in him.

He stamped the paperwork, then shook the boy's hand.

Sure the kid had come in babbling some nonsense about wanting to be a pilot, but he was just a tiny little sand rat, like hell he'd ever fly a TIE. But they could always use weak willed children to churn into troopers.

"Welcome to the Service, kid. We're glad to have you to help defend the Empire."

* * *

There are many paths, many courses Luke's life could have taken. In one his arrival at the academy was delayed by just a few months. In that timeline everything was different, radically dramatically different, thanks to a fellow student called Dev Morgan. Had they crossed paths it would have been the start of a lifelong friendship. He would have introduced Luke to the Rebellion, and to the Force. Together they would have had a relationship spoken of in legend, impossible feats made real. Yet they did not cross paths. This is not that tale. Not it at all.

* * *

On Tatooine Owen Lars read the note his nephew left behind over and over. His heart broke, for he loved his surrogate son more than anything in the galaxy, and had only wished to keep him safe. Then, owning that a mistake had been made, a terrible one made long ago, he set off for Kenobi's hut in the Jundland Wastes. To tell him that Luke had gone.

After his visit, the apologies and frantic rereading of the letter, Ben Kenobi was left alone with his regrets and his thoughts.

He reached into the Force, and his Master came. He relayed his message, and his Master promised to pass it along, and return with a response.

Then he reached for the emergency comm line, the one he had done his best to pretend was not even there, and flicked it on, patiently waiting to see his old friend's face. When Bail responded to Ben's call, he looked suitably worried and distressed, well aware this line would only be used in the most dire of situations.

"We may have lost Luke. He's gone to study at an Imperial academy. I've just sent a message to Yoda, but I wanted to keep you informed, before this spills over to impact your daughter's life."

* * *

Lothal was nothing like Tatooine. It had grass plains that stretched out into the horizon instead of desert, and thin spiddling mountains shooting towards the sky like the mushrooms Luke used to collect from the vaporators' sides.

The academy was in the capital city, the others in his class all from different parts of the Outer Rim, just like him.

He was so excited to be here, but he was starting to be consumed by guilt, regret that he'd left his family behind.

He wondered how his family was doing, without him there. Would his aunt finally have the time to pursue her dreams and open that cafe she always talked about? Or would those dreams be ruined thanks to the financial hit was his uncle was taking because he wasn't there? What were they doing?

Did they miss him as much as he missed them?

He tried to put his thoughts about them behind him. Focus on his future. On the training, and the adventure he hoped would follow when he was sent out into the galaxy.

Luke was going to be a Stormtrooper, a soldier fighting to protect the citizens of the Empire and keep them safe.

That was what was important, not his own individual concerns and worries, but the larger whole he was a part of. Every day in his training his instructors told them to let go of who they once were, to let go of their lives before. So he tried, he tried his best to be who they wanted him to be.

He excelled at his physical training, the best on every course. But when it came to the mental training, he was a disaster.

Every single test they put before him, he failed miserably. Once when presented with an obstacle course race, he had somehow known one of his classmates had fallen off a climbing rope. Known they had twisted their ankle in the fall, and could not move without help. He hadn't even thought about it when he turned around, made his way to them, and then carried them with him for the rest of the course.

Another time, on a different course, he saw a different classmate struggle to make it over a wall. The two of them had been in the front of the race, with Luke set to win, but he stopped and gave the girl a boost up, letting her win the exercise for the day.

Both times he had been punished for his actions, both times reprimanded and issued formal complaints. He hadn't quite understood it, to be honest. If he was to see himself as part of a whole, as just another trooper among many, then why wasn't he supposed to help his fellows soldiers? Why was he supposed to abandon them for individual gains?

He tried to make up for his indiscretions, really he did, throwing his all into his training, getting ever better at each task set before him. No matter what was asked of him he delivered, and then some, proving himself to be the very best there was.

He still slipped up from time to time, still stopped to help others, but when he did he made sure to win regardless, still achieving first place even with a classmate slung on his back.

Each time, still, he was called to an office, and each time he was censured for his actions.

* * *

The Grand Inquisitor wasn't sure if he should treat this case as normal or not. On the surface it certainly seemed to be exactly the same as hundreds of others he had reviewed for Project Harvester. A Cadet at an academy, doing too well in his training.

He just hadn't seen reports of someone excelling like this before, the child's command of the Force suggested by these scores was impressive to say the least.

Even that wasn't enough to make him contemplate going to the Sith who commanded him. He didn't like doing so, resented the man for being given a position of such renown. He could have been a Sith too, had there not been rules dictating only two of them exist at a time, and the black armored man getting there before him.

No.

The reason he was considering talking to him was the name on the file.

Skywalker, L.

He remembered a man named Skywalker.

Remembered what had been whispered about him throughout the Temple halls.

If this boy was somehow connected to him…

The Sith would truly need to know. He'd get in too much trouble if he held this information back.

He remembered having information held back from him, and knew if that anger had been enough to cause a Jedi to fall, well for a Sith it must be powerful indeed.

* * *

The Pau'an fool was outside his chamber, wishing to speak with him.

He opened the chamber up, turning his seat, taking in the pathetic man standing just outside the chamber walls.

"What did you come here to speak with me about, Inquisitor?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you it's… well there is a boy at the Stormtrooper academy on Lothal. His connection to the Force seems particularly strong."

"Since when do you consult with me about every child you investigate? The purpose of your Order is to handle these tasks without aide."

"No, of course, I know that. It's just… his name. I think he may be connected to one of the Jedi."

"Connected how?"

"Maybe a relative? I'm not sure. The Jedi he's connected to… it's the man they used to say was The Chosen One. The one who would bring Balance. Obviously that isn't going to happen, but perhaps the boy-"

The Inquisitor drew silent as Vader stood. With a gesture he summoned the datapad in the Inquisitor's hands into his own, the electronic device flying swiftly through the air until it was clasped firmly in his glove. The Sith gazed down at the file of the youth in question for a long time, the room falling into near total silence - Vader's respirator the only sound to be heard.

The resemblance to Vader's own youthful appearance was striking, yet tempered with reminders of Padmé's face. The file proclaimed the Cadet to be Skywalker, L., recruited from Tatooine.

He crushed the datapad in his hand without thinking. He had not meant to, not really, but he did it all the same. Behind him his hyperbaric chamber warped inward, the metal screeching as it bent.

Made of far sterner stuff than Vader had ever credited the man, the Grand Inquisitor stood his ground. He did not leave the room, did not run from this display of Vader's careless loss of control.

Perhaps Vader had underestimated the man.

"You did well, coming to me about the boy. I will personally handle this matter from here on."

* * *

It didn't make sense.

Her father shaking her awake in the middle of the night, worry cutting deep in his face.

"Leia, I am so sorry my love, but there has been a development."

She had rubbed the sleep from her eyes, blinked to dispel the confusion and this conversation that was undoubtedly part of a dream, but no - her father was still there. Her mother standing behind him, her queenly mask in place hiding her emotions.

"I'm afraid the course of your education is about to change my dear," she said, stepping closer to Leia's bed. "I know this all probably seems drastic, but it will make sense in time. Everyone agrees that this is what is needed. An off-world tutor to train you in… specialized knowledge."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"This means that your internship at my office is going to have to end. I'm sorry Leia, I know how proud you were of the work we were accomplishing there."

Her head spun, gazing at her father wide eyed in shock. "You're firing me!?"

He laughed, the sound too kind to accompany the news he just gave. "That's certainly a good cover, perhaps the one we will use. But no, sweetheart, it's just that this tutor we need to send you to lives somewhere very remote, and you would not be able to commute to Coruscant from there."

"So have this teacher come here. Or allow me to work remotely and - wait why are you sending me to this tutor in the first place? What is it that this unnamed tutor can teach that CZ-7OB can not handle instead?"

Her parents exchanged uncomfortable glances, and as her mother's resolve broke revealing the pain she had been concealing... Leia thought she saw a tear make its way down one of her father's cheeks.

None of what was happening made any sense.

* * *

It had taken him some time to prepare for their meeting.

He had no reason to suspect the boy was going anywhere, that there would be any issue.

His son had joined the Empire, was training to surve it best he was able.

His son was united with him in cause and purpose!

There was no need to rush this. No need to come before him before he had controlled himself, had adjusted to a reality where this dream was alive.

His son was alive.

He had not killed his child along with his wife, he had not been the one to blame!

Thoughts of their reunion spun in his head over and over, a persistent beat matching in time to the resperator's wheeze.

He was a father.

He had a son.

Other thoughts, far less pleasant, came in the days following this discovery. What had his Master known? Would his Master kill his son upon discovering him, or instead try to kill Vader, to make way for a new Sith to be trained?

Could he perhaps pull off the impossible? Dispose of his Master, and take his place.

Would his son object to that? He knew that their training rid Stormtroopers of everything save an allegiance to their Emperor. Removing even their identities, until they were more comfortable with a series of numbers than their old names. After he had destroyed the Inquisitor's datapad he had called up his son's file on a number of devices, memorizing each detail in anticipation of when they would first meet.

He was not at all surprised that his son was resistant to the depersonalization training. He would expect no less, of course he would be stubborn, in possession of a fierce willpower and sense of self.

What he could not understand, no matter how hard he tried, was the _reason_ behind all his son's demerits. What was compelling this boy to self-sabotage in the name of weaklings unworthy of sharing his space?

Still, he was proud, so very proud.

Whoever had been holding his child hostage had not been smart enough to keep him fully locked away. His file said he was a runaway, that he had forsaken all previous ties upon reaching the academy.

It eased the sting of all the previous rejections Vader had faced, knowing his boy felt the same way as he, understood the need to forcibly impose Order on the galaxy, at any cost.

They would be unstoppable, the two of them, together at last.

And now he stood, in an office in a backwater Stormtrooper academy, waiting for his son to arrive and join him. Join him, and seize the destiny that had always been theirs.

He felt emotions he had thought he was no longer capable of experiencing. Excitement, and nervous anticipation, and… yes, that was Skywalker's deep persistent need for validation and attachment rearing its head once more. He'd have to work hard to curb that this time. He knew better now than to let Skywalker's weaknesses get in his way. Trip him up, and leave him exposed.

* * *

Luke had gotten used to it, being called into offices. Being talked about by superiors as if he was barely there in the room.

Had thought nothing of being called into an office the day he found a stranger in black armor waiting for him.

The only thing that had given him pause had been the troopers stationed outside the door. They were of a higher rank than almost _all_ of the academy instructors. But the call to the office itself had been normal, and while the armor the man in the office wore was not like a Stormtrooper's, it didn't seem all that out of place.

Luke could not say why, but he knew whoever was behind that mask was curious, and excited, and proud, and angry, and so very very sad. He regretted something. Something to do with… with Luke?

Had they met before?

Not while he was wearing that armor of course, Luke would never have forgotten him then, but perhaps when he was in his civvies.

He stood next to the chair across from the desk, knowing better than to sit until permitted. He saluted, holding back his instinct to flash the man his brightest smile. "Cadet Skywalker here as requested, Sir!"

* * *

His son.

This boy was his.

His.

He didn't need the mechanics that ensured his organs functioned to maintain his heartbeat, it was pounding away on its own, without assistance.

This Imperial Cadet was _his_.

He knew, from the reports he had read over and over in anticipation of this meeting, that the boy - Luke - was desperate to prove himself. That he had not surprisingly told his recruiter he had wanted to be a pilot, not a trooper. No doubt he still chafed at his placement, still longed for something more.

And Vader would get to be the one to tell him he was not going to be a trooper, that he was better than some stock soldier.

He was going to be a leader.

He was going to be a Sith.

Vader would be able to offer the boy all he had dreamed of - fast ships, power, recognition.

Vader was going to be his son's hero.

* * *

The black clad figure just stood there… staring at him.

Wait, hadn't he heard of a guy like this before? The commander of the elite 501st? Vader. Yes, Darth Vader of the 501st.

No way! How had he managed to attract the attention of someone so powerful?

He knew it wasn't proper protocol, not by a long shot, but he was getting tired of standing at attention, waiting for Vader to acknowledge him.

He eased into a more comfortable stance, and cocked his head slightly to the side. "Sir? You had requested my presence?"

* * *

His son was growing impatient. Of course he was. He would be doing the same if he had been in his shoes.

He strode closer to the boy, eyes drinking in his features. He was so short. Almost Padmé's size. He could only hope that wasn't the only thing his son had inherited from her.

"Luke. Tell me. What do you know of your father?"

The boy's face wrinkled and sadness swept over him, hanging heavy through the room.

"He's… He's long gone. He was a navigator on a Spice Freighter and-"

"Who told you these lies?"

"Lies? What are you-"

"Who raised you."

"Huh?" The boy's face scrunched up, and he radiated confusion.

"Tell me, who raised you."

"I'm sorry but I don't know why you-"

Vader was glad he had taken the time he had to prepare. It allowed him to remain calm even as his line of questioning went nowhere. "Who was it who took you from me?"

"From you? What?"

"I ask again; what do you know of your father?"

"He… he was born a slave, and came to Mos Espa when he was very young. He got free somehow, no one ever told me how, and then he left Tatooine, and became a navigator on a Spice Freighter. He only ever came back once, for my grandmother's funeral. His name was Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. That's really all I know."

"That is an interesting blend of truth and lies. I was never employed onboard a spice freighter, nor was my mother's funeral the reason for my visit. I had hoped to save her from her fate."

"What? You can't possibly be implying that you… you're?"

"Yes. Luke, yes. I am your father."

"Krayt Spit."

"This may be our first meeting, but as your father, I believe I should warn you to watch your language."

"Seriously?"

"I am not truly sure. I never had a father."

"No you… I don't get it. You're of too high a rank to be having a go at me like this, why are you doing this?"

"I understand. I will request a blood scan be completed to remove any doubt of your paternity."

"You… you really believe this, don't you?"

"Yes Luke, I do. You shall leave this backwater academy with me, and begin more advanced training at once."

"More advanced training?"

"Yes. Being a Stormtrooper is beneath you."

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm no better than anyone else."

"Surely you are aware of your test results, of the potential you possess. Come with me Luke, and you will have power beyond your wildest dreams."

"But I'm supposed to report for AT-AT training in an hour and -"

"Come with me Luke, and you could be a pilot."

"...On second thought, yeah ok. So, what, am I being transferred to a flight academy then?"

"After my Master is disposed of you can attend Skystrike if you so desire."

"Skystrike? But that's for the best pilots in the entire Empire!"

"Yes. There is no doubt that is a category to which you belong."

"You've never even seen me fly!"

"You are my son. There is no question that you are the best there is."

"So that's it. A blood scan, and then we just… go?"

"Yes. I am the highest ranking member of the Imperial Forces. You are my son. You will not remain here in this low level academy."

* * *

On Dagobah a shuttle landed.

Princess Leia Organa, dressed for travel but not expecting a swamp, wrinkled her nose, and hiked up her skirt before setting forth into the mud and muck.

Nearby an old Jedi Master watched the white-clad figure as she made her way towards his hut, and he shook his head, full of concern.

He had always wanted to teach young Skywalker, his fantasies of her training had been his favorite way to pass the time.

But never like this. Not with _two_ family members in need of saving instead of just one.

It was not an easy path ahead of her, and he could only trust in the Force, and in her abilities as well.


	6. Darien Whit II

Warning: This Chapter Contains A Major Character Death

* * *

 **1 AFE**

 **In which we return to the world of Chapter One**

* * *

"Lord Vader," the Emperor greeted as Vader entered his throne room, "it is time you be given an estate befitting your station. A palace has been constructed for you on Mustafar."

A whole palace? Something beyond the single room he and Leia shared?

The promise of a full night's sleep, one spent without interruption, without having to listen to tiny lungs screaming, made him smile. Vader was so pleased he did not even care about the pain caused by the pull on his rotting flesh.

His already developing fantasies of a practice room where Leia could learn to fight and how he would show her the way to assemble training remotes, were quickly shattered by his Masters next words. "It is also time Skywalker's spawn takes her place with the other inquisitors, before you grow too attached."

"What?"

"Lord Vader, did you really think I'd allow you to so blatantly take an apprentice?"

"Apprentice? She is my daughter-"

"No!" the exclamation was punctuated by Sidious slamming his fist down on the arm of his throne. "She is _Skywalker's_ daughter, Lord Vader, not yours! Do not test me. You will either give her to the Inquisitors, or you will end her life immediately."

"And if I object?"

Sidious rose from his seat, throwing lightning in Vader's direction. "Disobey _,_ my young apprentice, and _I_ will be the one ending _your_ life."

Vader had hoped he would have more time before things came to this. He still was not used to the way the suit weighed him down, to the range of his new mechanical limbs, and the limits of his destroyed and failing organic matter.

He did not want to die, yet he refused to give up the child that belonged to him.

As the lighting arcing from his Master's fingers stuck him, he made his move. He did not reach for his lightsaber, strapped to his side. He knew his Master would expect it. After all, it had been Vader's first move the last time he had tried to kill Sidious. Instead he went for Sidious' concealed lightsaber stuffed in the sleeve of his robe, pulling it to his hand.

His plan was based on observing Leia at play with her toys. It was so simple, a literal child's game of tug of war. Sidious would not anticipate it at all.

Yet contrary to Vader's plans, Sidious' made no effort to reclaim his saber as it flew in Vader's direction. He was not distracted, did not waste any energy on trying to return the blade to his possession. All he did was increase the intensity of the lightning arcing from his fingertips.

Vader was incapacitated in a moment. He had experienced this pain before, of course, but never to this extent.

Every time he thought he had found a way to push past the pain, the intensity would increase.

The smell of burnt flesh inside his suit reminded him of the riverbank on Mustafar, and with his final thoughts he noted that it was fitting in its own strange way.

Darth Vader was burning to death, just as Anakin Skywalker had a year prior.

* * *

Palpatine gazed at the smoking carcass of his apprentice.

It had been such a waste to sink so much energy into yet another failed project. He had been so _sure_ that this one would be an apprentice worthy of his teaching. Yet Vader had grown so _dull_ ever since the slaughter of the Jedi Order. He'd been so _fun_ when he was younger, an entertaining side project to occupy Sidious as his larger plans slid into place. Twisting the boy's morality until his righteous sense of justice was turned on its head had been such a delight.

Oh well.

It had always just been a matter of time before he had to kill Vader, just as it was with all his students.

He had known something had to be done. The bond of parent and child was a festering weakness where the rot of the Light easily took root. Had he let it go on for much longer it would have poisoned his apprentice, regardless of which one ultimately was worthy of that title.

Now he would be free to shape the child into the ideal Sith, free of ever knowing any such burdens.

She would never miss the weaknesses of the Light, of love and attachment and compassion, as they would never have been present in her life at all.

He ordered a guard to bring him the child, reviewing what had gone wrong with Vader and with Maul, the two students he had taught since their youths.

The girl was far smaller than either of them had been when he had started with them, and her training would not have to be hidden away. While those factors alone already made sure her story would not be a mere echo of his previous failures, he did want to ensure he learned from those mistakes.

He had no time or patience for childcare, but her age presented him with the ideal opportunity to work with a truly blank slate.

Perhaps he could get those simpering cultists who worshiped the Sith to raise her until she was old enough for his methods. They could ensure that the very foundation of her being was seeped in the ways of the Sith.

Yes.

Yes, he had a good feeling about this one.

After all, much like him she was of good Naboo stock, and there was a good chance she had inherited her mother's cunning alongside her father's raw power.

A powerful Sith she would become.

One worthy of inheriting the Sith Order.

Finally, he would have his success.

Finally, a thousand years of Sith rule could be secured.

There was, after all, no one left in the galaxy to stop them.

* * *

On Tatooine a man awoke from his sleep. He felt empty in ways he had never expected, his healing heart ripped out anew.

Desperate for reassurance, he mounted his Eopie, bound for a farm on the other side of the Dune Sea. He knew the route well, traveled there often when he awoke from troubled sleep.

The feeling of suffocating wongness, cloying Darkness growing ever stronger, did not abate as the sand in his eyes was blown away by the true sand of the desert.

By the time he reached the Lars homestead, he was sure he knew what had happened. What sort of danger they were all in.

It changed everything.

It changed nothing.

He still was unfit to care for the boy on his own, the failure of Anakin too fresh in his memory for him to try again.

He still was set to train him as soon as his guardians granted him permission.

His heart hung heavy with loss, both for his brother - lost to a true death this time - and for the girl who would never know any joy.

There was nothing he could do for either of them, leaving this place sure to result in nothing but his own death and defeat.

He would have patience, and he would have faith.

As he stood on the ridge overlooking the farm, watching the small entry dome become a silhouetted as the double suns rose behind it, Obi-Wan Kenobi tried to convince himself that hope was not yet lost.


	7. Darien Whit III

In the same universe as Chapters One and Six, Leia captures Senator Organa's ship over Tatooine.

19 AFE

* * *

I felt bad about how short that last snippet in this universe was, and how dark. So here is the start of the universe that one was setting up. I hope you enjoy reading this one as much as I did writing it!

(Also, I promise this is the only one of the universes in this fic collection where Vader dies so early on)

* * *

Leia had never been to Tatooine.

She'd heard all sorts of awful things about the place, and not just about how the Hutts refused to cede full control of the planet to the Empire. Their reluctance was barely an issue. The Emperor would have her take care of those bloated slugs soon enough. The punishment for obstructing the advancement of a fully united galaxy tended to be death by her hand.

Still… Tatooine. Was it just a strange coincidence that the ship holding the stolen plans had jumped from Scariff directly to here?

It was after all on that barren waste of a planet her long dead father had gotten his ever so pathetic start.

As if to prove to her that this location was no mere coincidence, she recognized one of the prisoners her soldiers found on board the fleeing vessel. Senator Organa, the man who had kidnapped her as a baby. He had schemed to keep her from her rightful place at the Emperor's side. Leia had never understood why her Master had let the fool live, much less why he had barred her from ever encountering him.

Moments ago when he had been brought before her, he had simpered and cried. Babbled apologies over and over, not for his actual crimes but rather for getting _caught_. For the foiling of her abduction on that long ago day. The kidnapper had repeated her name over and over, as if it was something _precious_ to him. She ached to interrogate and murder him, to in the moments before his death soak in his pain over how miserably his plans to weaken her had failed.

That was the rub of the problem, wasn't it? She had to decide if she wished to remain shipside and personally torture the terrorist Senator, or if she would go down to the planet to retrieve the Death Star plans herself.

Unfortunately she knew exactly where her talents were needed most. All logic directed her to follow the Death Star plans and wait to have her fun with the Senator. She knew that.

She could torture the man later. The pain and fear she'd drink in as the interrogation dragged on would lose a certain quality if others had gotten to him before her, but she would still be able to savor ending his life.

She sulked as she acknowledged that there was no reason to delay in departing for Tatooine. She _wanted_ to stay here and torture Senator Organa. Not to ask him boring questions about the terrorist cell he was part of. No. She wanted to know how she had come into his custody nineteen years earlier. Had he been there when her mother died, could he give her a first hand testimony of what had taken place?

If he could not answer her questions about her mother's death, then he might help her puzzle out what exactly had happened to her father. He had been killed by terrorists, terrorists just like Organa, when Leia was but a year old. The Emperor had been kind enough to claim her as his heir after that, the orphaned child of his right hand and a former Queen he had advised and mentored.

She had taken her mother's name and her father's place by his side, and he had shown her how to use her power, had promised her she could have her revenge. Revenge against the Jedi for her mother, amd revenge against the terrorists for her father. She would have her revenge in full, and in the process she would bring security to the galaxy, rid it forever of the parent murdering scum it contained.

It had all seemed so neat and tidy, up until she had her mother's corpse exhumed a year ago. Something about the death, about the story about the Jedi murdering her mother, had never added up quite right. She'd had the remains studied by some of the finest scientists and medical professionals within the Empire, and then she looked the corpse over herself. As far as she could tell, there was no evidence of any sort of Jedi meddling. She'd scoured every surviving Jedi text and holocron she could, determined to locate some hidden secret technique that might have been used in the killing, yet still… nothing.

There was something she was _missing_ , its absence screamed at her in the Force. There was something she needed to know, something that would change everything forever. Which was why she so desperately _needed_ to interrogate her prisoner. Bail Organa was the only being she could think of who might have been there at the moment of her mother's death. The only one who might have answers.

Staring at the boringly brown and yellow planet they hung over, she sunk into the Force, petulantly hoping that it would give her a clue that would help her make up her mind. Obey her emotions and remain here, or obey reason and go to the planet's surface. She was cheating, she knew that. The Dark Side thrived on passion, of course it would want her to stay and get information out of the traitor.

As she sunk into the Force, something burst into her chest. It was bright and loud and warm and oh it was _singing!_ Singing like her kyber had when she'd first found it, back when it had belonged to a Jedi on the run and glowed with soft light. Before she'd made it bleed red and _scream_. The presence washed over her, filling her to the brim for just one single standard minute, and then as quickly as it had arrived it vanished.

She cast her sense out to the planet, desperate to for it to come back. For that impossible beautiful instant when it had filled her to the brim and Leia had felt almost… whole. She _needed_ it back.

But it was gone. Nowhere she looked could she locate even the faintest sign of that presence.

Although… wait.

 _There_.

It wasn't anywhere near as bright as what she was looking for. If that presence had been a star going super-nova, this one was a yellow dwarf. Nothing to scoff at, but it paled in comparison to the other.

This new presence was without question a Force-sensitive individual on the planet. From the intensity and texture of what she sensed, they were well trained, possibly even a Jedi Master. Whoever they were, they had gotten sloppy, not bothering to hide themself from her. Perhaps they thought they had nothing to fear? Had foolishly underestimated her based on her her age, her height, her gender, her "pampered" upbringing. She'd heard it all, and always relished breaking those who failed to treat her with the respect she was owed.

Well well well, who knew, Tatooine wasn't just a boring sand pile after all. Waiting for her on the surface was a Jedi she could exterminate. Excellent, it'd been far too long since she'd had a good lightsaber fight. She was beginning to worry the galaxy was running out of people capable of fighting back when she decided to test her blade against them.

Leia marched toward a transport vessel, the boots of her military uniform hitting the ground with a satisfying and familiar rhythm, blending with the faint sound of her cape fluttering behind her.

The prisoner could wait, there was _fun_ to be had.

* * *

Bail's tiny blue image flickered, repeating his message again and again.

He had come to beg Obi-Wan to join the war effort, to plead for both him and the boy to join the battle against the Sith.

Obi-Wan had known all of that before the recording had even started to play.

What he had not known was that there was a super-weapon in Palpatine's possession with one of the most melodramatic names Obi-Wan had ever heard a piece of technology bare. Nor had he known that the Rebellion his friend belonged to had finally declared open warfare on the Sith Empire, that they had begun their fight in earnest.

It seemed the Rebels had captured the plans to the previously mentioned melodramatic nightmare machine, and Bail had brought them with him to his meeting with Obi-Wan. Or he would have brought them with him, had he not been captured by the girl. Leia.

Obi-Wan tried to reconcile the look of fear and sorrow on Bail's face with the unconditional love he had seen the first time he'd placed Leia into his arms. She was supposed to have been Bail's daughter. To be raised with love and care and grow to exemplify the very best of all her parents' gifts. His heart ached for all that she should have been, all the love she should have known.

"Lady Amidala? Ben, she's here?" Luke gaped at the message, its words just ambiguous enough to ensure that Luke and Leia's connection would not be discoverable from the holo alone. He would have to be told of course that the Sith who dominated every holofeed with her deadly grace and charm was his twin sister.

Obi-Wan hoped Luke would forgive him for waiting on sharing _that_ news. He didn't want to shatter the boy's innocence, to dampen his carefree smile. He would have the rest of his life from the moment Obi-Wan told him onward to struggle with what their connection meant to him. He only had the time before being told to experience the true bliss of ignorance.

He was letting his attachment to Luke dictate his actions. He knew that, yet he still found it hard to prioritize the greater good over the happiness of the boy. Luke was all Obi-Wan had left.

When Owen had objected all those years ago to Obi-Wan training the boy, had tried to use that terrible bandit attack when Luke was two as an excuse, he had stood firm and refused to back down. Perhaps in another kinder world, one where the girl had lived a better life, he would have accepted the man's boundaries and rules, would have let Luke grow up a farmer in full. Obi-Wan could not say. He only knew the life he had lived, the one where he had pushed and insisted and Luke had spent two days of every week with him, training, and the remaining five at the farm with his aunt and uncle.

The boy was like Anakin returned to him once again. Anakin tempered with Padmé's spirit. His presence soothed Obi-Wan's battered and broken heart, and exposed its wounds all at the same time. He was attached. Dangerously so, just as he had been with Anakin all those years before.

From what Obi-Wan had seen on the news, the girl was, like her brother, a recognizable mixture of her two parents. Yet where the boy had come into the parts of them Obi-Wan had admired most, she had allowed those parts of herself to atrophy. She was certainly charming enough on the news. Padmé had always been a master of the craft of public speaking, swelling to burst with charisma, and her daughter had the same gift. When she spoke, even Obi-Wan could almost see the appeal of the destruction of all difference, of one shared culture spanning the entire galaxy. Of an army set on eliminating the pirates and gangsters who had always preyed upon the most vulnerable. The startling political declarations that fell from her lips were beautiful and impassioned and sickeningly wrong. She _believed_ in the Empire, and that made her far more dangerous than anything else ever could.

He glanced over at Luke, and to his shock the boy was dropping his shields, reaching out with all of his senses fully exposed. His presence was searing, impossibly strong. Even without their connection to focus her on it, there was no way his sister wouldn't notice her twin.

"Luke!" He shouted, panicked, "what are you doing!"

The boy flushed, hiding himself away the way Obi-Wan had always taught him. "Sorry Ben, I just… I've never sensed what a Sith feels like before. I know everything that you've taught me about them, but well… I just wanted to know what she felt like." Luke frowned, "She's so _lonely_ Ben. I don't understand, why would anyone choose to live that way? No _power_ could ever be worth that sort of isolation."

Obi-Wan sensed her, scouring the planet for Luke. Her presence was as staggeringly huge as Luke's, yet as cold as his was warm. She would not stop searching until she found him, that much Obi-Wan was certain of. Not unless she was sufficiently distracted.

He was willing to be that distraction, if it would enable the boy to live another day. He dropped the shields that masked his presence, that made him appear no more Force-touched than any other living being. He knew she was examining him, could practically feel the gears in her brain turning as she contemplated his presence and her next move.

He did not look forward to their meeting, could not imagine a way it might end well.

Obi-Wan had failed to protect her, to rescue her from the evil men who had taken her from a loving home at such a young age. They had twisted her into the monster he sensed now, and he could not help but feel in some way responsible.

He'd told himself, over and over, that he had to keep Luke safe. That he couldn't stray from the plan simply because things had taken the turn they had. This had always been a risk, and his role had always been set as the boy's protector, not the girl's. Still, there had to have been something more he could have done.

Palpatine had destroyed the Republic. Had exterminated the Jedi Order. Murdered Padmé, taken Anakin, and then just one year later cast aside the wreck he had made of Obi-Wan's brother. As if all of that had not been cruel enough, he had warped the girl. He had corrupted her from the very start, twisting her into a creature who committed unspeakable crimes and covered them up with a pretty smile and even prettier words.

It was enough to truly test Obi-Wan's resolve. A Jedi never attacked, only acted in defense. Anything else would only feed the Dark Side, make Palpatine stronger. If he set out for a confrontation, he would be of no use to anyone. Besides, he had proven years before that even if he did engage her in combat, he didn't have it in him to end a life he was so attached to.

Their only real hope was for Luke to reach his twin. It was their connection and Luke's compassion that would save them. Why he had to be trained, to be ready to face her, to reach her. He'd have to be able to survive long enough for her to actually hear him, for her to understand that what he could give her - redemption, forgiveness, acceptance - was preferable to anything the Dark Side had on offer.

Which was why he was going to tell Luke who Leia was to him, of course he was.

 _After_ they left the planet.

He wouldn't want the temptation of meeting Leia once Luke learned who she was to slow down their escape. They had the Death Star plans to see safely to Breha back on Alderaan, of course. What a good backdrop for their conversation the palace there would make. The place that should have been Leia's home, where she had been stolen by Vader so many years before. Yes. He would tell Luke as soon as they had handed off the plans, when the immediate danger had passed.

Yes, they needed to leave, and leave right now.

"Luke," Obi-Wan said, "Do you have any money for transport off the planet?"

"What? Not really, no. Why?"

"Well we're going to have to do as the Viceroy has asked of us. Bring the plans to Alderaan, and figure out our next move from there."

"But Ben, I can't just go without saying goodbye to my family! They'd-"

"No Luke, no. Going home after you've made the Sith aware of your presence will only put them in danger." It was vital Luke not delay their departure, they needed to leave as quickly as they could.

Luke bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes. "I'll see them again, right?"

Obi-Wan couldn't answer that, didn't know if his young charge would see his aunt and uncle again or not. All he knew was that the boy's sister was coming, and unless they were gone by the time she arrived Luke would not live long enough to reach her.

* * *

The Jedi had wisened up and masked their presence.

That could only bode well for how much of a fight they would be capable of putting up when Leia finally caught them. She hoped they would be as strong and clever as possible, that it wouldn't be over as soon as it began. Ideally she'd have to give chase, like she had with those two on Lothal. They'd evaded her for _years_ before she finally slaughtered them both, it had been exhilarating and wonderful, such a glorious time that had been. She hadn't been bored even _once_ while she was hunting them! Had her Master not directly ordered her to stop playing with them, she would have happily let them escape and continue their little game.

Oh, she did so hope this new Jedi would be smart enough to evade her. For this to be the start of a new period of time lacking in idle time, with something to occupy her other than the cavorness ache she could never fill or understand.

Without any indication of the Jedi's presence, Leia began her hunt at the abandoned escape pod. It was empty, but one of her troops found evidence of droids, and tracks leading away from the crash site.

The tracks led them to local scavengers, traveling together in massive wheeled vehicles and specializing in the repair and sale of droids. They had made the most delightfully amusing noises as Leia ran them through with her lightsaber, until only one of them remained. The absurdly tiny creature had tried to run and hide in a compartment hidden at the vehicles' underside, and when Leia explored the insides further she found the most curious and helpful device. An illegal droid memory reader, that could convert the data within a droid's processors and project it as a holovideo one could easily review.

She had it sent back up to her ship, it would be ever so useful once the droids containing the plans were located, with its aide who knew what sort of terrorist plots she'd be able to foil.

Also found in the strange vessel was a record of which farms they had visited, and how many droids were sold. It wasn't written in basic, rather in some low barbaric native scrawl, but some of the troops who had been stationed on this awful planet were able to puzzle out its meaning.

When they arrived at the third farm listed on the manifest, the Force seemed to swell with promise. There was something about this place, something that called out to Leia dancing at the edge of her senses. Reaching out... the memory of powerful Force presences swirled around her. Some new, others old.

The Jedi. It had to be the Jedi! Oh she had just known that searching for the droids would lead her to them! The droids must have been seeking the Jedi out, how like the terrorists to collaborate with even worse treasonous heretical scum.

Oddly however the Jedi's presence was not the strongest one. She recognized that searing filling warmth from earlier. She had been starting to think she had imagined it, but that impossible presence hung over everything here. Under that, faded and old, she could sense the impression of two other Force-users. One was almost… familiar to her. Where had she… It almost reminded her of what she felt when she focused on her father's old possessions, but…

This was his home planet, wasn't it?

His presence was strongest near a series of headstones set apart from the rest of the property, so while her troops banged on the durasteel entry door she went to investigate them further. The stones were weathered and old, with the names on them almost fully wiped away. Still, one of them caught her attention immediately, the sense of anguish, pain, and suffering called to her, feed the Darkness within her. There was no question who the source of those emotions was. She'd felt this presence whenever she'd focused on the things her father had left behind.

What an interesting coincidence, that the droids and the Jedi would have been in a place where Vader had once been. No. No she knew better than to believe in coincidence. This was the Force in action. It was trying to tell her something, show he something.

She leaned in closer to the grave, to the name on it. "Shmi Skywalker." That meant that this farm…

Well, this mission was just getting more interesting all the time, wasn't it. She'd been hoping for some answers, and as always the Force provided.

The stormtroopers were talking to the farmers, at the farm's entryway. They had no idea how radically different everything was now. This was not just another pathetic anonymous farm. This was where _Vader's_ mother was put to rest. There was a chance those farmers had known her, had known Leia's parents. They would need to be brought aboard the Devestator immediately, so she could question them at length once she had found the Jedi and the Death Star plans.

One of the troopers was making them kneel, probably due to being uncooperative. Why were civilians always so uncooperative when the nice officers came to their homes? Another had a flamethrower out, and was threatening them with it.

Well, she couldn't allow that to continue, could she? Not now that she knew they might have answers related to her past. The danger of them being burnt to death passed as she crushed that soldier's trachea. Oddly the farmers didn't seem grateful that their lives had just been saved. No, they were terrified, trembling as they knelt by the door. The soldiers were doing a better job of masking their fear, but it pulsed through the Force. Good. Their fear fed the Dark Side, making Leia's senses even stronger. Allowing her to sense more of what this place was hiding. She could feel him now, the source of that inexplicable heat. He really was all over this farm, and the Force was loudly insisting that she pay attention to him.

Who was he?

Why was he so important?

Hopefully the farmers would be able to answer those questions. Grinning, Leia issued the orders to have the two of them transported to a cell. Oh how she looked forward to entering the memories of those two. They'd help her track down the Jedi, and the source of this mysterious and intriguing presence.

She was assembling quite the interesting collection of prisoners, between the treasonous politician and now these farmers. This really was shaping up to be one of, if not the, best days of Leia's life.

* * *

They had to sell the speeder to pay for the trip, and even then promises had to be made for additional payments delivered upon arrival.

Luke didn't like it, not at all. Not only because the ship was a piece of junk, not only because he knew he was probably just as good of a pilot - if not better - than the spacer was.

No.

He didn't like leaving without saying goodbye to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. Didn't like like leaving at all. He was studying to be a Jedi!

Surely running was not the right move here, he should be standing strong and meeting her headlong for battle.

She was drawing closer, almost upon them as they trudged on into the ship. They'd have to go right now or else she'd have them. Kriff, fighting a _Sith_ , that would be so much more exciting than the training droids he normally fought. He wished Ben would let him face her, but noooo they had to run away. With this sketch smuggler and his Wookie friend in burner that was falling to pieces around them. Great. Just great.

Luke sunk into one of the seats of the ship, shifting anxiously as it hit him that he was actually leaving Tatooine. For the first time that he could ever remember, he was going off-planet. He scrambled to try and find a safety strap, something, anything, to help him brace for the ship leaving the atmosphere, but found none.

Ben sat down next to him, smiling gently. "It's ok to be nervous, Luke," he said, "I'm nervous, and I've been in space more times than I can count."

"Yeah, well who wouldn't be nervous on a ship like this."

Laughing, Ben held one of Luke's hands. "We'll be at Alderaan before you know it Luke. When we get there, I think it is time that you and I have a bit of a chat."

"About what?"

"About the Sith, Luke. There are things about her you are going to need to know."

"So I can kill her?"

What had he said? Ben looked devastated, Luke had to have done something wrong, but he couldn't figure out what it could be.

Then the ship lurched to the side, and he had his answer. The old Jedi was space-sick, that was all. Luke grinned, and relaxed for the first time since climbing aboard, Ben's discomfort making him feel much better about his own.

He had so much to look forward to. His adventure was finally starting! He was actually leaving Tatooine, and he was going to be a _hero_. A real Sith-slaying hero! As scared as part of him was, he had a really good feeling about this.


	8. Shmi Skywalker II

Chapter Eight: A continuation of the world of Chapter Two.

7 AFE

* * *

Luke had smiled when his father held his hand and led him to his ship. He had smiled as they left Tatooine, and smiled when they had entered the giant wedge shaped starship. He'd smiled as his father led him through the empty halls, and brought him to an empty compartment. He had even smiled when his dad had told him he had business to attend to, and would be back to retrieve Luke later.

Luke hadn't seen his father once in the hours since then, but he knew his dad was somewhere nearby. He didn't know how he knew that, couldn't explain it at all, but he knew it.

His father had returned for him!

His father had shown up just like how Luke always dreamed, and he had fought a bad man, and took Luke on a cool ship, and told him he'd never have to go back to Tatooine again! Before he'd left to do whatever it was he did, he'd even told Luke he could take as long as he wanted in the 'fresher attached to the room, and he could drink as much water as he desired. That Luke didn't need to ever worry about how much water he was wasting, ever again!

As great as it all was, he couldn't get the image of Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen lying by the garage out of his mind. Couldn't stop thinking about how Aunt Beru would never make him laugh, never kiss his wounds better. Uncle Owen wouldn't help Luke fix up the Skyhopper, or teach him how to shoot. Neither of them would tuck Luke in, or tell him a bedtime story, or see him or anyone else ever again.

They were dead, and every time Luke tried to be happy about his new life, he'd remember that all over again. As soon as the thought would enter his mind all the joy and excitement would drain out of him, leaving nothing but a heavy cold weight.

He kept having to remind himself that he couldn't cry, because his father had told him that crying over his aunt and uncle was not allowed. Luke didn't want his father to think he was disobedient. The whole trip from Tatooine to the big starship long he'd assured his father that he'd keep his room clean and do all his chores without even complaining and that according to Aunt Beru he was really smart, because he wanted his father to like him.

Luke was super worried that his father didn't like him.

It was so hard to figure out what his father was thinking, because of the mask he wore. Luke didn't know why he didn't just take the thing off. Thankfully the more he interacted with him the more he was able to puzzle out what his father was feeling, and he somehow could tell when he was telling Luke the truth or not (which was how Luke knew he was really his father. That wasn't a lie or a story it was _real_ ). So he supposed he didn't mind the mask too much. Or the way his breath was all loud and echo-y. No, what scared Luke about his father was that he didn't seem to want to interact with Luke. He hadn't answered any of Luke's questions when he was bringing him to the ship, and then as soon as they got here he just put Luke in this room and left.

The two Stormtroopers who were taking care of Luke were nice though. They'd been playing card games with him, and were telling him all about their homeworlds and what it was like living on a ship. One of them came from the Outer Rim like Luke did, and the other had also grown up on a farm, and Luke loved hearing all about their lives and why they had decided to be soldiers.

He'd even talked one of them into taking her helmet off, which was a relief because Luke was starting to worry that he'd only ever interact with people in masks and helmets ever again. She was Human like Luke, which he supposed wasn't too much of a surprise because everyone knew the Empire was a government just for Humans (he'd once asked his aunt what that meant for all the Rodians and Hutts and Tuskens and Jawas and Twi'leks and Wookies and _everyone_ \- and she'd hushed him and told him not to ask things like that in case someone heard. So Luke didn't understand it at all, but he knew it was true). The soldier had seemed so impossibly old (he'd asked and she told him she was _seventeen_! That was more than double Luke's age!) and had smiled a big smile at Luke. He liked how the white of her armor matched the white of her teeth, and contrasted with the dark brown of her skin. She hadn't wanted to tell him her name though. Kept insisting he call her and the other Stormtrooper by a series of letters and numbers, and there was no way he'd ever be able to remember _those_!

There was also a window in the room, and he could look out of it and see space and stars and the weird blue dancing lights that had covered everything after the stars got all weird and streaky, and he couldn't wait to tell Biggs and Camie and Fixer and Deak and Windy all about traveling in space! They'd all be so jealous! He could just imagine Biggs' reaction too. He'd grin that huge grin of his and he'd probably touch Luke on the back and say something that'd make Luke feel ten times as tall as he was. Biggs was really wizard like that.

Outside the window the blue lights gave way to the streaky lines again and then the stars returned just like before when Luke had first looked out the window ages ago. Only now they were all in different places, and instead of Tatooine, there was a strange new planet hanging in the sky. It was as red as Tatooine was yellow, and Luke gaped at it in awe.

Wow.

A whole new planet!

Luke'd never even been off Tatooine before in his life and now he was orbiting a whole new planet!

He wondered what kind of people lived there, and what kind of crops they grew on its surface. One of his new soldier friends, the one who hadn't taken the helmet off and came from a farm that grew skycorn, had told him that every planet in existence had different types of farms, and Luke couldn't wait to learn about them all.

Maybe his father would let him go and explore its surface? He hoped it was warmer than the ship was, he was so cold here. Even if the new planet was freezing, he'd still want to go everywhere he could and see everything! Luke was so excited, he didn't know what to do with all the energy he had! He started jumping up and down, so he could expel some of his excess energy. The movement made the soldiers laugh, which made him smile.

He knew he was going to go live somewhere other than Tatooine now that his father had found him, and while at first he'd been scared by the prospect of having to meet new people, the soldiers had been so nice that he'd found he no longer was afraid of that. They were his first new friends for his new life, and he was so happy to have met them. To have met his father, and to have all of his dreams come true like this.

Biggs really was going to go wild when Luke was able to tell him, that was for sure. He couldn't wait to holo him (the Darklighters had a proper holosystem and Luke was pretty sure his father would be able to afford one too) and catch him up on everything that had happened, and…

...and it hit him again. The image of his aunt and his uncle lying in the sand, motionless. His uncle had been torn into two separate pieces, his belly and his legs hadn't been attached to his arms or his head. His aunt's head had been bent at a funny angle. Their eyes had been open, but they hadn't been seeing anything, and they had smelled funny. Like that time Luke had forgotten to put the bantha steaks away when his aunt had told him to, and she had to get rid of them before anyone could have them for dinner. A sudden wave of revulsion swept over Luke, banishing all of the excitement.

He'd known what death was for years now.

Of course he did. He wasn't a baby. He'd seen what happened during drought years, when the people Jabba hired came and took away the water reserves. The results of the raids the Tuskens would mount during those droughts, snatching farmers who weren't careful and draining their bodies of all moisture so their families would have something to drink.

Only somehow he had never really understood before that _his_ family could die too.

Sure Uncle Owen would talk about it a lot. After just about every race Luke had his uncle would go on and on about Luke dying and how much that scared him. That was why Luke never asked if it was ok for him to do the things he did, just told his aunt and uncle about them after. He hated when his uncle talked like that. Uncle Owen would also talk to Aunt Beru in hushed tones when they thought Luke couldn't hear them, about what would happen if they didn't produce enough water. That talk would only increase during drought years. They'd talk about death a lot whenever Luke confronted the tax collectors too. He'd tried to explain to Jabba's employees during more droughts than he could remember how Jabba had enough water and didn't need to take more. After Luke would talk to them his uncle would always shout about how Luke had a "death wish."

So yeah, the the fact that he, and his aunt, and his uncle, were all capable of dying had certainly been something Luke was aware of.

He just had… never really considered it as a _real_ possibility before?

Luke was really happy his father had taken Luke off-world, he didn't want to sound ungrateful, he really didn't, but more than anything he just wanted his aunt and uncle to be ok. For them to be waiting back home, content knowing Luke was being taken care of, that he wouldn't have to be their responsibility anymore.

Then maybe his aunt could open that cafe she'd always dreamed about, and his uncle… well he didn't know what his uncle would do without him. He'd always said Luke was real good at running the farm and that things wouldn't run half as well if he wasn't there. He'd smile as he said it, and ruffle Luke's hair, and always offer to pick some sweets up for Luke the next time he went to town.

Hot and wet, a tear rolled down Luke's cheek. He tried to stop crying, to will his eyes to dry, but the tears just kept falling. He really really wanted to show his father how good he could be. Aunt Beru always said it was best to try and make a good impression when meeting new people, and Luke _really_ wanted his father to like him. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop thinking about how he'd never get to see his aunt and uncle again.

He wanted to tell the soldiers why he was sad, but his father had told him to never speak of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru ever again.

The soldiers hadn't pressed him to talk about why he was sad, and he was glad about that. They'd just tried to cheer him up, had been so nice and fun and he really did wish he knew their names. They were trying to comfort him again now, the woman from the Outer Rim kneeling in front of him, making eye contact and talking to him in calm and hushed tones, and the nameless faceless skycorn farmer with hands on Luke's shoulders and a steadying presence.

Luke was so happy to know them, he really was. They were just so nice! He really hoped they would be friends forever.

That was his greatest comfort. That he wasn't alone. He still had all his friends back on Tatooine, and the two friendly soldiers, and his father too. Just yesterday he hadn't even had a father at all, and now he was going to live with him! He just had to focus on that, and it'd make all the bad things better.

* * *

Soon they would land on Mustafar. Soon Vader would have to figure out how to fit his son into his life.

The palace on Mustafar was not designed with child safety in mind.

There wasn't anywhere else he could bring the boy - there was no question that his Master would kill one or both of them if he was ever made aware of Luke's existence. Mustafar, while full of individuals who reported directly to Sidious, was the closest thing Vader had to a place that was his and his alone.

The thought of the child being there worried him. What if Luke fell off a walkway into the lava below? While that certainly was not a guaranteed death sentence, and it might teach the boy a lesson about the value of pain, it would severally limit his combat abilities in the future. It would make it harder for Luke to one day aide Vader in the defeat of his Master.

Vader would only have one shot at this. If they tried to overthrow his Master and failed, the consequences would be dire. Sidious would desire to replace him with the younger and fully organic child if he learned of his existence. So for now the boy had to remain hidden.

Fortunately the castle was full of large imposing rooms no one ever entered. Rooms with neither purpose nor furniture. Vader could easily keep the boy shut away in one of those unused chambers, unknown to all save for Vader himself.

It occured to Vader that he should perhaps seal an education droid in with his son, something that would ensure he had lessons and enrichment while he was kept contained. Something Vader could fully control, and would make sure the child learned everything required of a future Sith.

Hmmmm. Better make that an education droid, and several training remotes. He wondered if he could secure holocrons to show Luke proper forms and exercises. Of course none of the Jedi holocrons would do, they would fill the boy's head with foolish notions like compassion. Teach him that a battle could be won with both combatants left living. No, not a single Jedi text would ever cross his son's path, he would never learn such foolhardy and dangerous ideas. Instead Vader would provide him with Sith holocrons. He was not sure where to find ones his Master would not miss if Vader relocated them, but if he could locate more they would certainly be adequate educational materials. They would teach the boy the power of hate and rage and fear. Why and how the strong had to rule, and why there was no point in worrying over the lives of those too weak to defend themselves.

Yes.

Yes.

This was a plan that just may work.

No living soul would have to know about the child aside from him, ensuring the boy would be kept safe, at least until such a time as he was ready to assist Vader in overthrowing his Master. This scenario was desirable in other ways as well. By limiting Luke's world to him and him alone, he would grow to understand the proper way of things in the universe. No being could ever hold the significance in his life that his father would. Ever. He would ensure that Luke understood that his father was the only being in the universe he should pay attention to.

It would be simple enough to ensure the child's existence remained a secret - only two troopers had come into contact with Luke since Vader had impulsively taken him aboard his ship, and killing them was a simple matter. The officer who had known Vader had gone to the planet's surface would have to be eliminated as well, just to fully ensure no one could suspect anything had occurred during his mission than what his Master had strictly ordered. If he learned of any other organic being that so much as hinted the existence of his son was possible, Vader would eliminate them as well. That would be his policy from this moment on.

The boy's world would contain Vader, and Vader alone. This would ensure that unlike his mother (as his thoughts drifted to her, Vader felt that pain all over again. At least the child was undeniably his. He had become increasingly sure since her death that the child she'd been carrying had not belonged to him) Luke would never dare to betray Vader.

He would never disagree with him or choose others over Vader. How could he when his world contained nothing but Vader's opinions and ideas, and Vader himself alone?

Yes.

Sealing the boy into a empty chamber with droids for tutors was the correct course of action. It would more than make up for the impulsive lack of foresight that led to him suddenly acquiring a child in the first place. Moreover, by coming directly to Mustafar after his mission on Tatooine, his Master would never suspect that anything out of the ordinary had taken place.

The boy would be secure, and Vader would not have to face his Master's wrath.

There would be no chance of failure this time, no room for deception.

Vader would finally have a family that stayed safe and secure as he pursued his career, that didn't care about other people more than him, that never contradicted him or acted as if they knew more than him.

This time Vader was going to avoid the mistakes of the past, and everything would finally be right.


End file.
